Wind Ryder
by Kittykatrosetta
Summary: Upon learning of Aria's vicious assassination, Inari Ryder, a blind Imperial Arms aristocrat, vows vengeance. However, when Inari's parents fall to Night Raid's sword, the girl discovers that the world is not what it seems. It is in fact, much darker, and Inari soon finds herself living with the very assassins who brought her life to ruin.
1. Kill the Ease

A/N: Hi! Intro will be at the end. ^.^

(In response to feedback, chapters will start getting a lot longer around chapter eleven, Kill What You Were Led To Believe).

* * *

 **Arc One: The Beginning Before the Start**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **Kill the Ease**

* * *

Our perceptions of the night reflect our innermost emotions. In our darkest moments, the saturnine sky smothers us in inescapable blackness. The wind howls, bites our ears; the stillness of the world is like the silence after death. But when our hearts are happy, Nyx becomes a beautiful, generous goddess. Starlight brightens the sky to a stygian blue and the moon casts the world in a silver glow. If the world is still, then it is a serene calmness. If the wind is dancing, then we see that the world never sleeps, that there is life after day, fireflies and cricket song.

The night is not inherently anything. It is what we make it.

That's too much freedom, sometimes.

Inari Ryder explored the clay. She inhaled it's earthy sent, fingers gliding across the slippery surface, or else digging into the cracks. She molded it, rolled it, twisted and shaped and squeezed, ignoring all else. Her mind carefully extracted the hooks of reality; the birds and breezes from the open window, the perfume on her neck that smelled like rain and water lilies, the soft grumbling of Jock's slumber; she floated away from the present world, cutting off all outside ties until she felt, in her very essence, like the clay she sculpted.

 _Knock-knock._

Her concentration immediately shattered. Dropping her hands onto her lap, Inari tried to swallow her irritation.

" _What?"_ She snapped.

The door creaked open, puffing the scent of chocolate and ash into the air. Recognizing Seiger's perfumes, Inari dismissed her frustration and crossed the threshold of her room. Silk kissed her calves as her skirts swayed in motion, finely spun and exquisitely crafted.

"You're back," she smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. Seiger didn't move as her hands brushed across his skin, tracing his cheek bones and gently pulling the course hair on his head. He expressed no signs of discomfort—she was just making sure it was really him, after all. Her hands dropped to his blazer. She twisted the top button, smirking. "How was school?"

"Fine," Seiger sniffed. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but Run is here."

Inari dropped her hands. "I'm not in the mood."

"I'm afraid I can't help with that," Seiger said humorously. "I'm but a humble messenger."

"Speaking of messages, do you know if Aria has replied yet?" Inari had sent her childhood friend a letter nearly two weeks ago.

"Not that I know of, sorry," Seiger said. Her face must have fallen, because he continued, "but I'm sure it'll come any day now. Don't worry about it."

She shook her head. "Aria has never taken this long." Inari's mind immediately imagined the worst; with Night Raid's recent increase of attacks, any sudden halt in communication was worthy of concern. "I'm riding out to her tomorrow," Inari decided. She could sense Seiger's body tighten. "I won't go alone," she said quickly, as if it were the most obvious thing. "You'll come with me, and Jock, of course. You can take off of school, a missed day won't kill anyone."

"Run is waiting," Seiger sighed, sounding pained.

Inari turned around, following the light of the window to find the spot where her lion slept. "Jock!"

She heard a heavy sigh, the pattering of paws against tile, and finally a soft grunt as Jock's nose wet her outstretched hand. The lion dropped a leather leash into her palm, then started forwards, guiding her from the room.

"I suppose you'll want to talk me out of this after my lesson," Inari walked passed Seiger, into the hallway. "You can try, but my mind is made up. Best start the preparations now."

"It's too dangerous to be outside at night," Seiger kept in step beside her.

"I said tomorrow, didn't I? Besides, a party consisting of a lion, an Imperial Arms user, a trained guard studying in the fields of medicine _and_ several more soldiers is bound to make it through the night." She stopped walking, absently grasping the silver gauntlets clasped on her arms. "I'm not being paranoid, I'm being cautious," she defended herself, her voice suddenly somber. "It's foolish to pretend we're living in peace, regardless of the state of our courtyard outside. Aria's never taken this long to reply. I need to see that she's alive and safe."

"I understand, Lady Inari," Seiger used her formal title. Usually, the formality, when used by him, irked her, but she let it slide. It was the proper terminology, after all, substantiating the gap between their statuses. "Enjoy your lesson."

* * *

Hey guys! Call me Kitty. I hope to update as much as I can-at least once a week, sometimes twice. ^.^

This story will follow an O/C of mine. The first few chapters will tell the tale of what I suppose you could call her origin story? lol-the anime storyline won't become relevant until several chapters in. I put a lot of effort into making O/Cs as not-mary-sue as can be, so feel free to let me know if I ever go too far with her. Inari's character will start off a little...bratty, maybe, but I'm super excited to watch her develop.

Chapter Six: The first fight scene

Chapter Eight: Enter, Night Raid ^.^

Stay tuned!


	2. Kill the Feathers

**Chapter Two**

 **Kill the feathers**

* * *

Sunshine lapped over her skin, casting the fields in a bright light even Inari could enjoy. She preferred it to the dark of her room, where no candles were ever wasted. The silver gauntlets wrapping her wrists and forearms emitted a white glow separate from the orange-yellow world around her. They were her imperial arms, a gift to her family from the Minister himself. Rather than casting their blind daughter to languish in the corners of the Ryder Estate, Inari's parents did all that they could to raise a capable daughter, and being in close relations with the Empire certainly had its benefits.

Divine Atmosphere: Wind Rider—what a silly, wonderful name for a weapon so powerful. Her great-grandfather used it in his life as a high military captain, returning the Imperial Arms upon his death. Prime Minister Honest was more than willing to lend Wind Rider to the Ryder family again (the name similarities was just an amusing coincidence). After her accident, Inari displayed a particular Affinity for the gauntlets, and that was all Prime Minister Honest needed.

It was reassuring, knowing that her family was held in such high esteem by Honest himself. It gave Inari a sense of security as she slept at night.

With Wind Rider, Inari could see. The Imperial Arms didn't only give her a particular sway over the wind, but awareness as well. On that day, Run had her sit in one of her estate's many courtyards and focus on the air currents, on their courses and vibrations. The air around her created a mental picture of her surroundings, a world of white current interrupted by sculpted shadows. Sitting there in the sun, Inari poured all her concentration into detecting the slightest movements, from the individual blades of grass rippling in the breeze to Jock's stomach breath as the lion slept beneath the shade of a nearby tree.

Run had her expand the wind's fingers, so that she could tell him what room her mother was in, what the chefs were cooking for supper; he insisted that she wasn't "seeing" everything, that she had to try harder. It infuriated her because, first of all, in her eyes he was a servant. Yes, Run was a high-ranking military official _and_ an Imperial Arms user—that's why her parents hired him to teach her how to further master Wind Rider. But, regardless, he was being paid. A considerable amount of money, too. It was in his best interest to keep her happy, yet there he was, the bane of her frustrations on that particular afternoon. _Fine,_ Run could be a nice man, but to insist she wasn't trying hard enough…

Imperial Arms required, among many other things, an immense amount of endurance. It took years to train the body and mind to fully withstand the strain an Imperial Arms inflicts on the user. Historically, those fortunate enough to have an Imperial Arms of their own used it exclusively for combat, as anything more would have been too draining. The weapons were, after all, invented a thousand years ago to protect the Empire. They were powerful, immense, and ultimately meant to be tools for defending the kingdom. However, Wind Rider offered a particular service to Inari. Instead of using it in it's more traditional method—controlling the wind as a means of offensive techniques—she made her gauntlets her eyes. She used the wind currents as her primary guide (Jock being her second) as often as she could. It was exhausting, and she couldn't use it every minute of the day, but over the years Inari had built up an extraordinary stamina.

Run was supposed to further her combat training, not force her to practice what she already knew. She wondered if her mother was intentionally having Run hold her back. When Inari first expressed her dream of becoming a military hero, her mother wasn't too happy. It was a dangerous career path, after all. But it was in the Ryder blood, and as her parent's only child, (Sieger didn't count,) Inari had a legacy to uphold. She wanted to be written down in the Empire's records, be immortalized in legend.

When Run asked her how many earth worms crawled beneath her, Inari lost it. Still maintaining her awareness of her immediate surroundings—Jock, the patrolling guards, the scattered stones and trees, and Run flying in the air, his Imperial Arms taking the form of massive feathered wings—Inari snapped, "That's impossible!"

"Why?" Run called out from above. She felt his light, neck-length hair and belted robe billow in the current of his wings. His form in the wind was tall and slender, and Inari couldn't help but wonder if he was handsome, and if he looked as soft as he felt.

"There's no air under ground," Inari said, frustrated, standing up.

Run lowered to the ground, the flap of his wings sending a gust of wind her way. "You just have to try harder," he said calmly. "You have the unique opportunity to be fully aware of every inch of your surroundings. If you can master this, learn to detect the slightest movements around you, you can become unstoppable."

"Yes, but I _already know how to-_ " Inari stopped midsentence to throw herself to the ground, dodging the cannonade of razor-sharp feathers shot from Run's wings.

Run hummed.

"What the hell was that for?!" Inari rubbed her right palm, where she had landed on a pebble.

"Why didn't you blow the feathers off their trajectory?" Run asked, unfazed.

Inari paused. "I…I didn't think of it." She only had a split second to react, after all.

"Exactly. You need to learn to predict an object's movements. You're very skilled in detecting the slightest twitches, but if you can't predict what those twitches mean, then you aren't using your full capabilities. The muscles in my arms move differently when I wave up than they do when I wave downwards. If I were to strike with my sword, you should be able to tell where I aim to hit, or if I'm planning to feign, by analyzing the way my body prepares it's movements. But before you can predict movement, you must train yourself to know exactly _how_ things move."

"I already know how to do all that," Inari grumbled. "You just took me by surprise."

"That's what combat is," Run said simply. Through the air, Inari felt his head move to face the sky. "I think that's it for today. It's getting late—can you tell?"

"Yes," Inari answered, instinctively looking to the sky as well, though she saw none of it. "The light is fading."


	3. Kill the Mood

**A/N:** Aria's parents aren't named in the cannon, so I gave them the name Casne.

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **Kill the Mood**

* * *

Eating with other people was always a highlight of Inari's day. There was something musical about the clinking of silverware, and food always tasted better when shared with other people. Her fish was grilled to perfection, scrumptiously moist and seasoned with a modest pinch of chili powder—the estate chef knew exactly how to cater to her tastes. Her father had returned early from his trip into the capital, and so all three Ryders—Inari and her parents—enjoyed dinner together. Jock lay curled by Inari's feet, gnawing on a raw slab of steak. The lion was sprayed in a humid perfume that reminded Inari of a hot desert.

Sieger walked in, his fragrance of chocolate and ash alerting Inari of his arrival.

Helena Ryder, Inari's mother, hummed sweetly. "Sieger, why don't you eat with us tonight?"

Inari, exhausted from her lesson with Run, submitted herself to the darkness, relying on her other senses and giving Wind Rider a break. She assumed the pause in conversation meant Seiger was hesitating, so she turned and smiled. She wanted him there when she would tell her parents about the plan to ride out to Aria's estate.

"Thank you, my Lady," Seiger said, his voice barely louder than a mumble. His feet shuffled as he came closer. The chair screeched on the floor as he pulled it out to sit.

"I spoke with your professor today," Danven, Inari's father, said. "Dr. Breive."

Seiger cleared his throat. "You did?" He seemed surprised.

"Of course, son," Danven laughed. "I'm not paying your tuition for you to slack off."

"Thank you, sir," was all Seiger could think to say. Inari hid her smile.

"Yes, well, he says you're doing exceptionally fine work. At the top of your class—you'll be a doctor yet!"

"That's wonderful," Helena said.

"Keep it up, boy, and I'll get you an apprenticeship in the capital," Danven's mouth was full of food.

"Thank you, sir," Seiger said again, his gratitude obvious in his voice. Even after all those years, he still seemed surprised by any curtsey.

"So, did you bring us anything from your trip?" Inari asked eagerly, leaning closer to her father. She was only half kidding.

"As a matter of fact," Danven rustled with something under the table, "a scarf for my beautiful wife, and a mask for my precious daughter."

"Oh, Danven, it's lovely," Helena cooed.

Inari held out her hand, and her father placed a wooden object in her palm. She caressed the surface, marveling at how soft and sturdy it felt. Her fingers traced over intricate engravings. "What color is it?"

"Brown," Seiger said, "like cherry wood." He took her hand and led her fingers over the carvings. "It's covered in black dragons," he moved her hand to another indented shape, "and—"

"Wait, let me guess," Inari said, following the fine curves in the wood. "Is it a flower?"

"Right you are," Denven said proudly. "Strong like a dragon, beautiful like a flower."

Inari held the mask over her face and turned to Seiger. "Boo."

"You don't need a mask to give someone nightmares," Seiger teased quietly. She slapped his arm, a smile on her face. Jock huffed lazily under the table.

"I have something for you too, boy," Danven said. Inari listened as her father passed something over to Seiger.

"What is it? What is it?" Inari jumped in her seat.

"A…Its…" Seiger sounded shocked.

"Our family crest," Danven seemed pleased. "Pin it to your chest from now on—I want all your classmates to know what house the best student comes from."

Inari smiled, knowing how much the notion would mean to Seiger. The Ryder crest, a picture of a fierce lion head with wings sprouted from it's ears, was a renowned image in the Empire. Anyone on the streets could recognize it. They were a very influential family.

Seiger was speechless. The ruffling of his coat told Inari that he pinned the crest immediately. The tousled-haired, bright-eyed face of Seiger when he came to their home all those years ago smiled in her mind. Inari felt a pang of anger that she couldn't see is face now, couldn't see with her own eyes if he was smiling, tearing, or dumbfounded. If she were to activate Wind Rider, she could probably trace out his expression, but it wasn't the same.

"Thank you, sir," Seiger said, sounding truly genuine for the first time that night.

The heartfelt moment reminded Inari of the heavy stone in her stomach. She stroked the mask, suddenly somber, and cleared her throat.

"I'm riding out to Aria's estate tomorrow," Inari announced. The clinking of her parent's silverware stilled. "She hasn't written back yet. I'm getting worried."

"Your father went hunting with Sir Casne just last week," Helena said soothingly. "I'm sure she's just busy."

Inari scoffed. "Aria? Busy?" Inari loved the girl, but Aria had never lifted a finger in her life. At least Inari trained every day—Aria just went shopping.

"She makes a compelling point," Danven laughed heartily. "I have no qualms against it."

Helena sighed. "Very well," she said. "But you're taking a handful of guards with you."

"Seiger will go too, won't you boy?" Danven said.

"Will it be alright if he misses school?" Helena asked before Seiger could answer.

"Bah, the boy's at the top of his class. He can afford to miss a few days." There was a clunk as Danven must have set his cup firmly on the table.

"Of course,' Seiger agreed.

"You'll leave early, then," Helena ordered. "Ride fast—try to make it before nightfall."

A heavy lull fell upon the table. It wasn't a secret what went on at night.

Danven cleared his throat. "You know what, I have a box for Casne. You can deliver it while you're there." His chair scratched against the floor, followed by his heavy footsteps leaving the dining room.

"You had better rest tonight, then, Inari," Helena, too, stood from the table. "Seiger, can you help me with the preparations?"

"Of course," Seiger stood.

"I think I'll go to bed now," Inari decided. She gently nudged Jock under the table. "Come on, boy. We have a big day tomorrow."


	4. Kill Your Ignorance

**A/N:** Hey guys! I hope you're enjoying so far! The first fight scene will be in chapter six, and Night Raid finally makes their appearance in chapter eight. Stay tuned! ^.^

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 **Kill your ignorance**

* * *

For the past hour, Inari tried to sleep, but the uneven cobblestones kept the carriage ride jarring and unpredictable. Feigning sleep, Inari activated Wind Rider. Stretching her mental muscles, she first reached out for her immediate surroundings, gently rustling the air inside the carriage car. Spaces in the shapes of Jock and Seiger interrupted the air, Seiger sitting across her and Jock curled by her feet. Curious, Inari focused on Seiger, tracing the shape of his coat. But she found the crest in his hands, his fingers caressing the intricate edges and turning the charm over and over.

It was more difficult to determine her outside surroundings. The carriage was moving quickly, breaking the natural wind. Trying to send her wind outside felt like extending her hand in a harsh current of water. She heard the galloping of horses, steeds for the five guards to ride along side her.

She sat up, yawning, pretending to wake up. She felt Seiger quickly pin the crest to his shirt. Why didn't he want her to know he was studying it? Well, she wouldn't ask, and reveal that she had used Wind Rider on him. Seiger was particularly touchy about that. He had no right to be, but Inari never let it bother her.

"Your perfume is wearing off," she told him, rubbing her useless eyes. His scent of chocolate and ash lingered faintly in the air.

"Is it?" Seiger sniffed his wrists. "Oh, sorry. I must not have put on enough this morning." A bag rustled, followed by a spritz and the sudden gust of his perfumes. The fragrance was so specific, sending Inari back to all the times she and Seiger roasted marshmallows and nuts by the fireplace; the crackling embers, the silky hot chocolates steaming at their sides. All the members of the Ryder estate wore individualized and specific perfumes, so Inari could have an easier time finding and recognizing people. Even Jock was sprayed every morning—the lion brought a strong scent reminiscent of a scorching desert where ever he walked. Inari particularly liked Seiger's, though her mother's jasmine was always a favorite. Inari wore her own special brand as well, though not for any practical purpose. She just liked to smell nice—the sense was a big part of her life, after all.

"Where are we?" She asked. Jock pushed his head onto her lap with a mild grunt. She ruffled his mane, scratching the tough skin behind his ears.

"We're in the Capital. We'll be there soon," Seiger said.

Inari stretched her arms, then continued mushing Jock's face. What a boring day.

"Are you nervous?" Seiger asked, catching her off guard.

"Of what?"

"Of the night," he said after a pause. Obviously she was nervous for Aria, if Inari was making the trip to her friend's estate.

"I wish I wasn't," Inari admitted. "I think…our perceptions of night depend on our emotions. If I'm at peace, I'm sure the misty air, cricket song, and touch of twilight would feel serene. But when I'm scared, or anxious, the night just feels threatening." Her fingers slowed, gently combing through Jock's hair.

"How do you feel now?"

"Tense," she said. "But we'll make it there in time."

"I think it's ironic," Seiger mused. "I mean, money and power is supposed to buy security, but did you hear about Ogre?"

"No. What happened?"

"He was found dead in an alley," Seiger said. Inari's blood ran cold. Ogre? Assassinated? But he was so… "You can't help but admire them a little," Seiger continued, "if they managed to take down someone like him."

"Admire?" Inari spat. "They're killers. They're hired assassins—they steal from the poor and feed on the rich. I can't admire anyone who forces my friends and family to cower when the sun sets. Night Raid. They're cowards, that's what they are. "

"How so?"

"They just want chaos. They want blood. Isn't it obvious? They strike under the cover of night against those who live in good fortunes. But do they leave any message? Do they stand for something? No. They just kill."

"There are people at the University who think they're brave," Seiger said lightly.

"Well, the people at your University are wrong." She sensed Seiger fidget. "What?"

"It's nothing."

"No, what is it?" She persisted.

"You won't like it."

"I don't like you're evasiveness more."

Seiger sighed. "You know the Kolreans?"

"Night Raid's last targets?" Inari tried to sound indifferent. In truth, the middle-aged couple was close acquaintances of Inari's family. They were viciously assassinated one month ago.

"Well…" Seiger searched for the right words, "I've heard rumors that they…hunted."

"Hunted? So does everyone—"

"Humans," Seiger cut her off. "They kidnapped people off the street and treated them like wild game."

Inari couldn't believe her ears. She clenched her fists, furious. "How dare you! The Kolreans were lovely people—you've met them yourself! Is that really what people are saying? D-defiling the Kolrean's name, that's so…insensitive!" Inari struggled to express her true disgust.

"I never said I believed it," Seiger pleaded. "You're right, it was wrong of me to say. I didn't know you felt so strongly...I'm sorry."

Inari crossed her arms. "It's fine."

"The way you say that makes me feel like it isn't," Seiger murmured. The two fell into a silent hush as the carriage rattled along. Inari used the air to study his posture—Seiger was slumped against the back wall, his shoulders bent, elbows folded on his knees and hands twiddling thoughtfully. His tense facial muscles made her suspect he had more to say.

"What?" She asked crossly.

"I didn't say anything."

"No, but you want to. I can read it so loudly, you may as well be screaming."

Seiger grumbled. "You know—"

"I don't care," Inari cut him off. She had no interest in a lecture about personal space. "I want to know what you're thinking."

"No you don't," Seiger scoffed. "You think you do, but once I tell you you'll just get mad."

"I won't."

"You literally just did. Literally, like two minutes ago."

Inari scowled. She wanted to talk to her friend, but he had a point. She sighed, trying to exhale all her frustrations. "Talk to me."

Seiger was silent. She could feel his gaze pinned on her, scrutinizing. Finally, he leaned back with a sigh, crossing his ankle over his thigh. "What does justice mean to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say, hypothetically, there _was_ a family—not the Kolreans—who hunted people for sport. Would they deserve die?"

It only took her a moment to think. "Yes."

"If they were rich?"

"Yes."

"If they were poor?"

"Of course." Inari threaded her fingers through Jock's mane.

"What if it was the emperor?" Seiger asked.

"The emperor doesn't hunt people—"

"But if he _did,_ " Seiger persisted. "Does he have the right?"

Inari licked her lips, contemplating. It was a dangerous thing to question the limits of the Emperor's rights. "I don't think… _anyone_ has the right to cold-blooded murder…" she said slowly, testing the words.

"Ok, but what if it's not cold-blooded?" Seiger leaned forward. "Let's say you knew what this family did, and no one else was going to stop them. The only thing you can do is kill them. Would you?"

"I don't—"

"You said they deserved death," Seiger pointed out.

She crossed her arms. "I don't know."

"If someone else killed them, would you brand that person as a murderer?"

Inari frowned. "Justice is defined by the perceiver. The line between right and wrong is…extremely convoluted."

"I just want to know where you draw that line," Seiger said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm curious."

"Fine. Here's my answer, I think. It all depends on the motive. I mean, soldiers go to war and bloody their hands, and come back as heroes. If there's a murderer, and you have a chance to take their life, and you do it to prevent future deaths, then…fine, I suppose."

"What if the person isn't a murderer?" Seiger asked. "What if they're just…selfish, violent—they're terrible, but they don't actually kill anyone."

"I mean, it depends," Inari said.

"Ok…If someone tortures people but then lets them go, or if they make a fortune by condoning others to suffering. If the official of a province raises the taxes, knowing it will cripple the poor, for the sole sake of taking in more money, is that alright?"

"Well, politics is an entirely different matter," Inari shook her head.

"Is it, though? If you steal, or kill, you're a criminal—that's the law, and where a lot of our moral standards come from. But if you're above the law, if you can steal or kill and the law refuses to touch you, are you still a criminal?"

Inari shifted in her seat. "I think that there's a political hierarchy and that's how society functions. If everyone had power, then everyone would assume themselves, I don't know, above the law, and it would be chaos, if everyone just did what they wanted. But if no one were in power, then there would be no one to punish the criminals and keep everyone in line. I think there should be some things that are off limits to everyone, but the system itself is good. People need a structure. It's just the way things are."

"Hm," Seiger hummed. He sounded neither satisfied nor disappointed.

"Where is all this coming from, anyway?" Inari asked. She never knew Seiger to be so interested in this type of topic.

"I've just been thinking, lately. Dr. Breive, one of my professors, brought up an interesting question today," Seiger said. Something about his slight change in tone felt…off, somehow, though Inari couldn't pinpoint it. "He told a story from when he worked a prison many many years ago. He treated the prisoners, these horrible people, giving them medical attention and sometimes even saving their lives. But there was this one man who was nearing the end of his sentence, the son of some noble—Dr. Breive didn't say how the kid managed to get himself, a noble, arrested—but the kid was clearly sadistic. He was even suspected of killing several inmates, but there wasn't enough evidence, or something. Anyways, the kid suddenly got very ill, and Dr. Breive was told to save him. So there he was, faced with this decision: if he treated the kid, Dr. Breive was positive that the son would murder more people once he was released. But if he didn't, the son would die."

"What did he do in the end?" Inari asked, intrigued.

Seiger's coat ruffled as he shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't tell us."

"Well, that's cheep," Inari grumbled.

"He wants us to think about it ourselves," Seiger explained. "So I have."

"I can see that," She said wryly. "What would you do?"

Seiger scoffed. "I have no clue. I'd like to say I'd let him die, though. I think that would be the lesser of two evils. Or greater of two goods, depending on how you look at it. What about you?"

Inari thought about it. "I agree," she decided.

Seiger hummed, and once again a silence rolled over them. By the end of the conversation, they were only a few minutes away from Aria's estate. Inari left the topic of morality behind her.

Little did she know that it would come running back, foaming at the mouth.


	5. Kill the Silence

**A/N:** Get excited for chapter six! We'll finally get to see Inari in action! And then...Well...hehe

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 **Kill the silence**

* * *

There was a knock on the window. Seiger spread apart the curtains, pulling them along their metallic rail with a slick _shnip._ Light poured into the carriage, brightening the dull grays into tepid yellows before Inari's eyes. She touched the air—Seiger was leaning against the window, palms pressed against the panes. He frowned at something outside, but as they were still in motion, Inari couldn't explore the air beyond the carriage.

"What is it?" She asked him.

Seiger threw open the doors and leapt out. Inari slammed herself against the wall and pushed her feet against the bench across her until the carriage jerked to a halt. Startled, furious, confused, Inari grabbed Jock's leash and allowed a soldier's hand to guide her to the ground. Spreading Wind Rider's touch, she surveyed the scene. Trickling trees and manicured shrubbery, cobblestones; her five guards surrounded the carriage, three still mounted on their horses. The coachman, perched on his sill, cursed under his breath. The road beneath her feet curled along a soft hill, splitting Aria's yard, bending again by the estate's porch. Inari counted a dozen other carriages, all bigger and probably grander than hers, parked along the Casner's driveway. Men with sharp uniforms were loading boxes and furniture from inside the manor.

Unease swept over her. Inari hurried forward, pushing past her guards. Jock's paws pattered in front of her, but with Wind Rider activated, Inari didn't need him. She easily discerned Seiger from the lot of men, the shadow of his figure familiar to her.

"Seiger!" She called out.

He turned around, facing her way, and held out a hand. "Inari, wait."

Like hell she would. She shouldered past him, stopping just short of the man Seiger was talking to. She sent a breeze to run down the figure standing proudly before her. Large, a shapely chest beneath layers of velvet and a fine robe; the man wore glasses and a feather pierced out of his cap.

"I am Lady Inari, daughter and heiress to Helena and Danven of the Ryder family. I demand to know the meaning behind this."

The man held his hands behind his back. "Lady Inari," he nodded his head in acknowledgment. "The Emperor has ordered this estate emptied, and everything inside sold or put in his treasury."

"Why?" She asked coldly. She felt Seiger hovering beside her. "Where are the Casners?"

The man shifted—nervously, she supposed. Inari remained stock still, hopefully intimidating. "The Casner family…" he twiddled with the feather in his hat, "have been…assassinated."

Inari gave him a startled look. " _What_?"

"Several nights ago," the man said.

In a moment of weakness, she stumbled back. Seiger caught her shoulders. "Don't touch me," she shoved him away, confusion and fury and another emotion she couldn't identify overpowering her body. There had to be some sort of mistake. Aria's parents had just as many hired guards as Inari's family…Their grounds were just as well patrolled…Aria had been just as alive…

Seiger held his composure. "Do you know who did it?"

 _No…I won't allow it…_

"From the looks of it?" The man leaned forward. "Night Raid."

She only processed snippets of the conversation. Seiger was pressing for details, witnesses.

With Wind Rider, Inari searched the house. Men were tearing paintings from their hangings, rolling up the rugs Inari and Aria used to cuddle on beside the fireplace, ramsacking the cabinets of tableware and closets of silk dresses. She twitched her fingers, searching the air of the hallways and rooms, the sick feeling of dread growing with every uniformed man _not_ of the Casner family. Someone called her name.

She dropped Jock's leash and bound up the hill, inside the house. The lion chased after her. She couldn't see their faces, but the men in her path who threw themselves against the wall no doubt did so to avoid Jock. They were probably startled. She didn't care. She didn't care about the people shouting her name, or ordering not to lay a hand on her. _Lucky for them,_ she thought of the men who, in confusion, had began reaching for their swords.

She knew her way. Inari burst into Aria's room and thrust for the air around her. She hectically sought out the familiar furniture but…There was nothing to search. The bedroom was nearly empty. Aria's canopy bed, her collection of butterfly figurines, her clothing; everything was gone, save for a writing desk and oil lamp in the corner, a cushioned chair, and a soft rug by the fireplace.

And everything was quiet, too.

Quiet, and empty.

Aria was gone.

* * *

Her footsteps echoed. Inari was so attuned to her surroundings, so horribly aware of the present, that she could feel the air vibrate and her footsteps reflect against the walls. Her breath was shallow. A light breeze teased her skin, her cheeks were cold with tears. Jock slumped to the floor with a low groan. Maybe he could tell.

Inari crouched and ran her hands along the floorboard. Perfectly sanded, the wood slid under her palms. Her fingers jumped over a groove. Inari forced her nails inside, and lifted up the loose floorboard, grimacing at the sudden stab as the nail of her pointer finger bent and broke. Inari always thought it a stupid hiding place, if it hurt to access it, but Aria had insisted that was part of the charm. She had said, sacrifices make things more precious. Beneath the floorboard were Aria's most treasured momentous, all sitting neatly in a cloth canopy.

Lifting the cloth, Inari lay it out on the floor. There was a small bag of rocks, a feather, a dried flower, a glove and a hairpin.

"Inari?"

She didn't turn around. "She's dead"

"I know," Seiger stepped closer, his figure blocking the light from the hall. "I'm sorry." He stooped low beside her. She leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder. He held her while she cried.

When all her tears were gone, Inari straightened. Seiger dropped his arms. She reached for the glove and turned it in her hands.

"What color is it?" She asked.

"White," he answered. Though he had no way of knowing why, exactly, there was a pile of random objects on the floor, he said nothing.

She had known it was white, hadn't she? Clearing her throat, Inari motioned to the writing desk. "Can you…see if she wrote a letter for me?"

"Of course," Seiger said quietly. She listened to him stand and the floorboards creak under his steps. There was a shuffling of papers. Inari prayed. When Seiger returned without a word, her heart plummeted, but then he gently placed an envelope in her hands. "It's addressed to you."

She clutched the letter, savoring the crisp sound as the paper crumpled in her palm. Taking a moment, Inari steadied her breathing, then abruptly stood. "You'll read it to me in the carriage."

"What? Inari, wait," Seiger insisted. "It's been a long day. We should find a place to spend the night."

"No," Inari said. "We're going back. Now." She turned to the door.

"Inari!" Seiger hissed, yanking her arm, startling her.

She spun around, alarmed, furious. " _Excuse me?"_

"Listen, Inari—sorry," Seiger stammered, dropping her arm, "but, please. It's mid-noon, we'll never make it back before nightfall, and you need to rest."

"I've been sitting all day," she said through grit teeth.

"We need a proper meal," Seiger said desperately.

She couldn't understand why he was being like this. "Seiger, if _you're_ too tired and hungry, then _you_ can stay and find an inn for tonight. _I'm_ leaving."

"Inari, please—"

"I want to go home!" Her voice broke. "Can't you see that?" She hugged herself. Seiger stammered, but he seemingly had nothing more to say. Inari glanced at the pile of mementoes on the floor. "Do you think they'll let me take them?" She asked quietly.

"They don't have to know," Seiger stooped down, folding the wrapping and the items inside into a lousy rectangle. Tucking it under his jacket, Seiger pat the lump, then crossed his arms over his stomach.

"Fine," Inari said, examining his arms with a feint breeze before turning around. "Thank you," she added more quietly. "Jock!"

The lion grunted. His feet padded against the floor and soon Inari felt the familiar wetness of him dropping the leash into her palm. She ruffled his mane and, too tired to use Wind Rider, let him guide her outside.


	6. Kill the Worm

A/N: This chapter was fun to write ^.^

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

 **Kill the Worm**

* * *

Dear Inari,

I met someone today. His name's Tatsumi and he's a real moron. Haha—I mean that nicely, of course! He's so silly, his eyes just shine with determination. Oh, but he's too trusting for his own good, I think. I saw him sleeping on the streets and invited him in. Too bad he'll probably be long gone the next time we see each other. He says he's a fighter, but his arms remind me of those noodles Seiger tried cooking once. Remember those? They fell apart in the bowl! He should definitely stick to medicine. I bet he'll be a handsome doctor one day. That's right Seiger—I know you're probably reading this. ;)

I think I'll go shopping tomorrow. Apparently there's a new store that sells the most beautiful figurines. I hope they'll have butterflies; I'd love to expand my collection.

We should meet up again soon.

You have such pretty hair, Inari. Did you know that?

Love, Hugs, and Kisses,

-Aria Casne

Inari sat cradled in the corner of the carriage floor, clinging onto Jock's neck. "Can you read it again?" She whispered.

Seiger complied. Inari's eyes stared blankly in front of her, taking in nothing. She felt quite the same way. All her tears were shed, leaving in their wake a cold, empty shell void of emotion. She felt weak, and…tired. How many times had Seiger read the letter? How long had they been riding? The curtain covering the carriage window was left open, yet the light was fading. Night was fast approaching, but Inari wasn't afraid. In fact, a small part of her welcomed it.

"Again," she said. Seiger read Aria's letter for what must have been the twentieth time. He was followed by silence as Inari contemplated, swimming through her mind in search of any thoughts. She didn't find many.

"Agai—"

The carriage reared to a sudden halt. Inari was jerked forwards, crashing into Seiger's legs. Voices rose outside.

Seiger's arms gently but firmly helped her up. "Are you alright?" He asked hastily. She nodded, and Seiger jumped to his feet. "Stay here!" He threw open the doors and lunged outside.

Like hell she would.

Inari fumbled for Jock's leash, blindly untangling it from his legs and mess of fur. Pushing open the carriage doors, Inari jumped out. She activated Wind Rider and observed the scene. It was easy to tell what was wrong.

A wretched scream tore through the forest. Inari doubled over, clenching her ears; the carriage wood splintered, the horses reeled, and the wild thickets on either side of the road shuddered in fear. A gaping hole gorged the ground before them, like a giant had ripped apart the earth like it was paper. But it was no giant.

It was so gruesome, the wind recoiled at it's touch, skipping across it's slimy skin and slipping down it's coiling body. A snake? No, it felt more like a worm; a humungous barreled body striking at the air, the bottom still engulfed in the earth. Millions of needlepoint teeth circled the inside of the mouth, spitting and convulsing at the very tip of the worm's body. It shrieked again, shivering the air and earthen road. Liquid dripped from Inari's ears. Jock whimpered, but bared his fangs.

"It's a Danger Beast!" One of the guards shouted.

"Dammit!"

"Hell! Look at that—"

"WATCH OUT!"

The beast lunged forward with a striking velocity, swallowing one of the guards whole.

"TAKA!"

The worm…burped…splattering the company in a pungent substance. Inari's breath hitched—she reached up and pulled a finger from her hair.

She screamed.

"Inari!" Seiger was suddenly at her side.

"KILL IT!" She shrieked. "KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!" The air painted a savage image for her: the four remaining guards desperately trying to land a blow, their weapons ringing. Seiger's three-sided sword was pointed away from her. He gripped her arm tightly, watching a fight she blissfully couldn't see.

"I have an idea," Seiger breathed, "but I'll need a lift."

She nodded, shock replaced with adrenalin. A thrill surged through her veins and she burst forward, leaping over boulders and crags and rearing her hand back. Power surged beneath her skin, electrifying the nerves in her arm. When none of the guards blocked her path, Inari punched the air. A devastating wind burst forth, raced forward in a contained streak and drilled through the monster's body, leaving a head-sized hole in its wake. The worm wailed. She winced. Inari twirled, using the momentum to throw her hands up and slash them downward, sending an arc of wind slicing towards the beast.

Liquid sprayed from its skin. It smattered her cheek and smelled like rot. She felt a slight twitch in it's body, a nearly undetectable reel, and then the worm lunged. She threw herself to the side. The beast's head whisked past her and a terrible crunch snapped the air. She had made it in time. The legs of one of the guards weren't so lucky.

The stinging taste of bile bit her throat. Inari swallowed, forcing down the hitch in her stomach, and scrambled to her feet. The worm's head darted back into the air, lifting with it it's exposed body. With dreadful curiosity, Inari wondered just how far bellow the earth it's tail ran.

"INARI!" Seiger yelled.

She didn't turn around—the air showed her what she needed to see. Seiger was racing towards the beast, a parcel tucked under his arm. She leaned her arm back, revving up. The Worm reeled. Seiger darted passed her and jumped. He brandished his sheathed sword. Inari swiped her arm in an upward diagonal, sending a powerful gust of wind hurdling at his feet. The air hoisted Seiger higher. The worm lashed out. She sent another blast to rocket Seiger forward.

The two collided, beast and man. Seiger thrust his sword vertically into the worm's gaping mouth, catching its jaw and blocking it from closing. Inari stood, stunned, devouring every twitch in the air currents as her friend valiantly hung onto his sword. Digging his feet into the worm's lips for balance, Seiger yanked the parcel and pitched it down the monster's convulsing throat. He unhooked his sword and pushed off, soaring through the air, and landed somewhere behind her.

The worm's head tilted to the side like it was confused. Inari held her breath, more curious than anything else. What did Seiger do?

A gurgle, almost purr-like sound spit from the monster's mouth. A tremor ran down it's body, and then it fell, collapsing into the ground with a deafening force, flattening trees and disturbing the earth into a cloud of dust.

And then it was silent.

Cautiously, mesmerized, Inari stepped forward. The wind guided her around the scattered debris, jutting boulders and stray branches. She stopped just before the worm's body and…Stared. She saw nothing, but it was all she could do. Inari was stunned. She had fought beasts from time to time but…

Her guard Taka was dead…

Aria was dead, too…

As the forest chaos died down, Inari stood in a trance.

And then the worm moaned. It's skin shivered.

Startled, Inari jumped. It wasn't dead. Screaming, she cocked her arm and punched a bullet of wind through its head. She did it again, and again, and again, releasing her maelstrom of emotions and grief, shrieking. By the time she fell to her knees, exhausted, the worm's head was nothing more than a pile of viscous goo.

Inari vomited.

Jock nudged her shoulder. Seiger's groan of pain brought her back to reality.

* * *

Please review if you enjoyed! ^.^


	7. Kill the Oncoming Death

**A/N:** I made some changes, and Night Raid will finally be introduced in chapter eight! Get ready for some pretty intense reveals, too ^.^

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

 **Kill the Oncoming Death**

* * *

"Seiger!" Inari ran through the darkness. A stray tree branch caught her foot and she crashed into the ground. Scrambling to her feet, Inari flailed her hands desperately until she whacked against Jock's mangled mane. The lion growled, but nudged his head into her palm. Stooping, she found his leash and he guided her safely to Seiger's side.

The man moaned. Inari was exhausted, but she forced herself to endure the toll of Wind Rider just a little longer. Through the air she examined Seiger's body. His blood leaked through the holes in his shoes, but Inari was baffled that his feet were still intact, after digging them into the monster's mouth the way he did. More prominent, however, was the congealed liquids pooling from his ears. Seiger had been struck by the worm's blaring wail at a very close distance. She lightly touched the side of his head. What could only be brain matter matted his hair, spilt from his ears. It was like clotted gel under her fingers, warm and sickening.

He was breathing, but just barely.

The idiot.

Inari took a shaky breath and clapped her hands. The blackness of settling night gave way to the bright white glow emanating from her gauntlets. Wind Rider hummed with the activation of its Trump Card, turning warm against her forearms. Inari waved her hands once over his entire body, then carefully cupped them over his ears.

"Divine Atmosphere: Breath of Life," she whispered.

Wind Rider shone in a brilliant pure glow, and the softest of winds pooled over Seiger's head, kissing his hair and whispering through his ears.

Seiger gasped. The bleeding in his head stopped. He moaned, then fell into a peaceful slumber.

Inari leaned back, utterly exhausted. The light faded from Wind Rider and she was left completely blind. The restoration time was quite a pain—it would be at least an hour before she could try activating the gauntlets. She held out her hand, and waited for Jock to drop the leash in her palm. She stood.

"Ok," Inari sighed loudly, "who's alive?"

A mangled cry came as her first reply.

"Lady Inari," the heavy footsteps of Haifu, her strangest guard, clamored towards her.

She held up her hand impatiently. "I'm fine. Tell me the damage."

Haifu sighed. "Getoka, Mati and Ishiru are by the carriage," he reported. "Getoka's legs…" He trailed off.

"Can he walk?" She asked coolly.

"No, Miss," Haifu confirmed her fears. He hesitated. "They were…ripped off…And Taka…"

"What of the coachman?" Inari hurried on. When he didn't answer, she assumed he was insulted. Taka was a good guard. "We need to focus on what we have, right now," she explained. "Right now, the survivors are more important than the losses. You can mourn him when we're in a safe place."

Without Wind Rider, she couldn't determine any slight physical movements, but since Haifu continued with a stronger voice, Inari assumed he had nodded. "The coachman tried to hide under the carriage, but it collapsed on top of him. Ishiru and I tried to dig him out while Mati worked on stopping Getoka's bleeding, but…"

"So then, we have no coachman, and no carriage?" She tried to sound indifferent. The day had truly been a nightmare. Inari knew that Night Raid weren't the only monsters who haunted the night, but she still never expected…The gruesome crunch of Taka's bones still stung her ears…It was the first time she was ever thankful to that little servant boy, for the accident all those years ago—her eyes were kind enough to never subject her to the sight of death.

"How many horses are left?"

"All of our five ran away in fright," Haifu answered, "and only three survived the carriage unscathed."

"How far away are we from home?"

"No less than an hour."

"Very well," Inari wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, smearing the cold blood. "You will ride with Seiger, Ishiru will be with me, and Mati will take Getoka." They would have to drive the poor horses ragged, but there were no other options. It simply wasn't safe at night, especially when both Seiger and Getoka needed medical attention. Even if she hadn't used Wind Rider's Trump Card on Seiger, Inari wouldn't have been able to heal Getoka. It only worked on fatal wounds.

Haifu huffed, but there really weren't any better options. As long as they were outside, they may as well keep moving.

While her guards salvaged tied Getoka to Mati and Seiger to Haifu, Inari sat on the ground, leaning against Jock. She tried not to think about the coachman's body or the horses beneath the carriage. She heard one of the guards unsheathe a weapon, followed by two quick animalistic whines. The horses crushed under the carriage must have been alive. Well, that had been. She cursed her excelled hearing.

"Lady Inari," Ishiru approached. She reached out her hand and he took it, guiding her to a horse and hoisting her up. "Do you want me to tie you?"

"No," her voice was dull, "I want to stay awake. Hold Jock's leash, though," she gave the leather strap to him.

"Lay…Inar…ee" Getoka whispered from her right, his voice mangled. She turned her head in acknowledgment. "Your lion…" the guard struggled to breath between words. He was clearly in agony. "Saved me."

Ishiru squeezed the horse's side, and they were off. Wind ripped past her face. "Jock carried Getoka to safety," he explained.

She hummed uninterestedly. "Are you hurt anywhere?" Inari asked passively.

"A ringing in my right ear," he, incredibly, hear her over the roaring wind. He kept talking, but she couldn't hold on to any of the words. The prominent ringing in her ears was partnered with the _crack_ of Taka's body, replaying over and over in her mind. Inari stared blindly ahead, too dazed to register the cold night air. Time became a lucid concept.

They were attacked once more. It was a massive, buck-toothed rabbit, and Jock disposed of it quickly.

She just wanted to go home.


	8. Kill the Killers

**Chapter Eight**

 **Kill the Killers**

* * *

"We're here, Inari," Ishiru nudged her shoulder, waking her from her daze. On a whim, she tried to activate Wind Rider, but her mind and body was too exhausted to maintain a strong connection, especially since it was still cooling down after healing Seiger.

The horses clacked against cobblestone, and for a single minute Inari relished in the blissful thought of safety.

And then Jock growled menacingly. A chill ran down her spine. Something wasn't right.

A blinding flash of light struck through the darkness.

"What was that!?" Ishiru reared the horse.

"A…streak of orange light," Mati said, confused.

"Where?" Inari leaned forward.

"It looked like it hit in the courtyard!" Haifu shouted.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"The door!" Mati cried.

"What? What do you see?" Inari demanded.

"The guards…Are cut…" Ishiru choked on his words, "in half."

"We're under attack!" Haifu cried.

 _You have got to be kidding._ Hadn't she suffered enough for one day?

Inari lunged from her perch on the horse before Ishiru could stop her. She found Jock immediately beside her, and a moment later they were running towards the gate, leash in hand. She summoned any remaining, adrenalin-spiked strength and prepared to activate Wind Rider. Her thoughts were in a frenzy. A bright beam? Cut in half? _Attacked at night?_ There was only one explanation. If the situation wasn't so dire, Inari might have laughed. Some being from above just really had it out for her.

Jock guided her to the gate. Running her hands over the cold metal, Inari searched for the latch. She found it. _Click._ She threw open the gate.

Not bothering to close it behind her, for the fence clearly proved no obstacle to the assailants, Inari darted to the left and raced along the border of her estate. She imagined the tall walls that guarded the fortress whisking past. In the event of an emergency, her parents would escape through the underground tunnel. Inari assured herself over and over that they had made it. She had to believe. Wind Rider couldn't detect anything underground. The wind pierced her eyes and shrieked in her ears.

 _They murdered Aria and her parents. They're here to kill us too._

Regardless of her exhaustion, Inari had never ran so fast in her life. Her heart slammed in her throat and the bile and blood staining her body pricked her nose. Jock's thumping paws were a steady pace beside her.

Again, time lost it's meaning. She could have been running forever.

Finally, Jock changed direction, leading her around the wall and into a mild woods. The trees reached for her like the hands of death, their branches clawing at her cheeks and clothes. Activating Wind Rider, Inari focused all her power into finding the Tree. She franticly navigated the air currents. _There!_ An egg-shaped shadow in her minds eye; Inari burst forward.

Practically throwing herself against the bizarre tree, Inari yanked a jutting branch downward. There were a series of mechanical clicks, and, with a tremor, the bark of the tree swung outward like a door. Holding it open with her hand, Inari stuck her head inside the dank tunnel. A musty smell assaulted her nose.

"MOM!" She called. "DAD!

"INARI?" Her mother's voice rose from beyond the tree, further into the forest.

"Mom!" She tugged Jock's leash. The lion guided her around the secret entryway and forwards several yards.

"Oh, Inari!" Helena nearly threw her daughter into her arms. The woman's silk nightgown caressed Inari's cheek. It felt like water, slippery and smooth, and smelled strongly of jasmine.

"Mother, what's happening?"

"It's Night Raid," Helena choked.

"Where's dad?"

Helena answered with a heart-wrenching sob. Inari swallowed a lump in her throat. Everything suddenly felt so surreal…yet dream-like.

"Ladies," a guard urged. Inari hadn't even noticed him before. "We must leave."

Hand in hand, Inari and her mother stumbled through the forest, where the Ryder property extended no more than half a mile onwards. They would run into the village, into the safety of the public eyes, and they would live. She couldn't think about Seiger or Danven. The maybes, the "what ifs"; her only focus was on survival.

Helena's breath hitched and she jerked to a halt. Inari nearly stumbled. A vicious growl trembled from Jock's throat, and Inari immediately activated Wind Rider.

Three people stood in their path. Surrounded by bowing trees on all sides, there was no escape. Ignoring her mother's painful grip, Inari scrutinized the group. Fearlessly, she dipped into the wind's current, examining the precise ways the air bounced around the bodies, painting a picture of their shape, their form, their faces. There were two women, one sleek like a walking shadow, the other muscular and brazen. The former stood motionless, almost catlike, hand on the hilt of her sword, silken hair swaying delicately in the breeze. Her face was expressionless—sculpted by Wind Rider's touch, the woman's lips were straight and narrow, the muscles around her eyes loose and settled.

Inari recognized her from the posters Seiger always described. It was Akame, bearer of the One-Hit-Kill sword, a savage Imperial Arms whose cursed blade left no victim alive.

In contract to her partner, the second woman grinned maliciously. Her head was a wild mane of hair, her teeth like polished razors. She stood with a wide stance, hands on her hips and fingernails that resembled claws. There was something animalistic about her nature; the belt around her waist wasn't for clothes.

The third, a boy, stood behind the women, his sword drawn and face taut.

From the looks of it, only Akame and her beast-like companion were Imperial Arms users. Still…If Inari engaged them in battle, one of the three was guaranteed to die. And unlike them, Inari was not an experienced killer.

"Inari," Helena whispered, her voice shaking.

Acutely aware of her surroundings, Inari detected the guard's intentions before he let out a cowardly scream. He spun around and went running in the opposite direction. Before anyone could move, another flash of orange light briefly dominated the sky. It shot down in a solid beam, struck his forehead, and exited through the back of his skull. The guard tumbled backward, dead before he even struck the ground.

Helena shrieked. Inari gaped in awe and shock. There were Night Raid members everywhere…They were utterly surrounded, utterly alone.

Turning on the group of three, Inari's desperation made way to panic, fear, and fury. "Why are you doing this?!"

"For justice," the animalistic woman shrugged. "Vengeance. Blood. Choose whichever ya like."

 _Justice? Vengeance?_

"You are not a target, Inari Ryder," the cat-like woman unsheathed her sword, her voice like a breath of black wind. "Stand aside."

"Not…a target?" Inari could hardly manage the words. She was utterly consumed in rage. "NOT A TARGET?!" She clenched her fists and poured every ounce of emotion into her expression and speech. "Why the hell are you targeting us at all?! We've done nothing, we're innocent! _Justice? Vengeance?"_ She spat the words. "Is that what you hide behind? Is that what you told Aria? Like hell I'm going to stand aside while you kill my family. _You're_ the targets now!" She lunged, face twisted into a savage snarl.

She sensed them before they struck; dozens of invisible strings coiled around her wrists, pinning her arms to her sides and yanking her to the ground. "Damn you," her voice shook. Several more strings sliced through the sky, rocketing towards her, and bound her mouth. In another moment, Jock lay tied beside her.

Inari writhed in the restraints, but it was no use. She was faintly aware of Helena discreetly backing away. Akame leapt inhumanly high, gracefully flipped in the air, and landed behind Mrs. Ryder. Startled, Helena whirled around to find The slender, shadow-like woman's sword inches from her throat.

Inari couldn't talk, couldn't move, couldn't _fight,_ with Wind Rider pinned to her sides. She was completely useless.

"Akame, wait," the other woman flicked her fingers, the sharp claws snapping threateningly.

"INCOMING!" A voice rang through the night. A boy fell through the sky, his long coat flapping violently. Landing expertly, he reached up his hands to adjust the bulging goggles strapped to his head. He turned towards Inari. "I've been asked not to kill her."

"Lubbok!" The boy with the sword shouted from behind the woman with the claws.

"What are you doing?" Akame asked in a monotone.

"Everything's taken care of back there," Lubbok jabbed his thumb behind him. Inari's breath hitched. He turned to Helena. "What are you waiting for?"

"She doesn't know," Akame said coolly.

"Ah, I see," Lubbok rubbed his head, grinning. "Tatsumi's made you soft, huh Leone?"

"What?" The boy with the sword sounded bashful.

 _Tatsumi…Where had she heard that name before?_

"Come closer and say that to my face," Leone smiled, brandishing her claws.

Lubbok laughed sheepishly. "No thanks."

`"Smart boy," Leone cracked her fists, the noise sickeningly similar to Taka's breaking body. Her words were threatening, but there was a jovial kick in her voice. She walked over and crouched beside Inari. Inari jerked in a futile attempt to break free, but the strings only tightened.

"Ah ah ah," Lubbok scolded. Using the wind to trace the strings, Inari found that they led to sharp metallic caps over each of his fingertips. _A third Imperial Arms user._ She still didn't know what the boy with the sword, who she assumed was Tatsumi, could do. Even without him, the odds were devastatingly stacked against her.

"Hey there," Leone greeted her casually, mockingly. "Like I was saying, we're not here to kill you." Inari felt helpless. "Usually, target or not, we'll cut anyone who stands in our way, but, well, our source specifically requested you survive tonight. We'd like to let that happen, so how's about a deal?" Gagged, Inari could say nothing, but she stopped struggling. Would they let her go? Could she…Could she save her mother, too? Keeping her hopes at a reasonable hight, Inari fixed her eyes at the woman's head, indicating that Leone had her attention. "Hey, Tatsumi, c'mere," the woman called. The boy with the sword hustled forward. Leone turned back to Inari.

"We'll show you what vengeance brought us here, yea? Lubbok is gonna let you go, and Tatsumi here will keep his sword at your back in case you get any ideas." Leone sniffed as she raised her head towards Akame and Helena. "Your ma can come too." She leaned close and whispered in Inari's ear. "We've come to kill your parents, Inari, and the majority of your guards, and we're giving you the courtesy to know why. Will you let us?"

The strings around her head loosened. It wasn't curiosity, but desperation that lead Inari to her decision. Night Raid were notorious murderers. The Empire's most wanted list consisted of four of their members—no one knew how large Night Raid really was. They only struck at night, their identities under the cover of darkness. But now she had met more. Inari had used to wind to trace Leone, Lubbok, and Tatsumi's faces, and she doubted they would really let her escape. She needed time, and they were selling it to her.

Inari nodded.

"Great," Leone purred. "We'll show you, then, and, well…Let's see what happens."

* * *

 **A/N:** *Squeals* I've been so excited for this chapter

Review if you enjoyed! ^.^


	9. Kill Your World

**Chapter Nine**

 **Kill your World**

* * *

They walked back to the manor. Tatsumi, who as far as Inari could tell, had no Imperial Arms, walked with sword firmly pressed against her back. She had looked back at him instinctively, and he gave her a casual, if not slightly timid greeting. _The only reason they stuck me with him is on the chance I cut him down, Night Raid won't lose any important members,_ she realized. Easily, she could have whirled and sliced off his head, but then Leone or Akame or Lubbok, or the two anonymous assassins Inari sensed perched on a net of string high above the trees, would kill her. Instantly.

Clutching Jock's leash tight to her side, Inari tried to drain any expression from her face. Akame's sword was still threatening Helena's neck, hovering above the woman's shoulder so that the mother and daughter couldn't look at each other. Not that it made any difference for Inari; she traced Helena's face with the wind and detected only fear: wet eyes, trembling lips, strained muscles. Inari wasn't sure what to think, because Helena had tried to leave, sneak away while Leone and Akame were focused on Inari restrained on the ground. On the one hand, if Helena as only capable of saving herself, then Inari would die happy that at least her mother got away. But it still stung that Helena was so willing to leave her there to die…

When they were close enough to the estate that Inari could use Wind Rider without utterly exhausting herself, she sent her winds to paint her a picture. Every body the air washed over was either slumped or sprawled or bent on the floor, motionless. There were guards who's torsos had been severed from their legs, and who sat in a shallow pool of blood. She didn't know the guards well enough to distinguish one's adulterated corpse from another, but Inari knew her father. Danven's plump body, decorated in royal embellishments; metal buttons, velvet nightshirt, a thick rod of crystal dangling from a clasp on his right ear; sat in an armchair in the library, his neck broken.

" _We need to focus on what we have, right now. Right now, the survivors are more important than the losses. You can mourn him when we're in a safe place."_ She had said that to Haifu, hadn't she? Wow, Inari realized. That was wretchedly inconsiderate.

Seiger was no where to be found…Inari hoped he got away. Maybe he sought help. If she could stall long enough, perhaps her and Helena could survive the night after all.

Silence weighed down on them; assassins and prisoners. Jock's feint growl was like distant thunder, a constant sound that soon melted into the white noise of the forest. Helena was crying, her gasping sobs the only sound Inari could focus on.

"You're keeping a pretty level head," Lubbok sauntered beside her. She resisted the urge to break a hole through his chest. "We could use more like you."

Before she could spit on him, an idea struck her cheek like a cold slap. At the moment, her only priority was survival. It was an outlandish thought, but if she played her cards well, maybe, _maybe,_ she could plunge into the beast. Inari had to assume that Seiger and her mother were as good as dead—Leone had even said that she wasn't a target. Lubbok had dropped in, literally, to stop Inari before she threw the first punch. Night Raid will kill anyone, target or not, if they pose an offensive obstacle. If Lubbok's strings hadn't pulled her back, Inari would have designated herself an enemy to their mission. Apparently, even Night Raid functioned off some sort of twisted code. At the moment, her best case scenario was being sold off as a slave, somewhere where she couldn't reveal their identities to the Capital. But perhaps she could plow a second option; a future where she can live, and even possibly sabotage Night Raid from the inside.

"What, killers?" She responded wryly.

"No, there's enough of those," Lubbok matched her satirical tone. "Assassins."

"What's the difference?"

Lubbok chuckled. From the shape of his body and light voice, he felt very young. Early twenties, or late teens, even. In fact, they all did. "There isn't a big one," he admitted, "but we're about to show it to you."

The edges of Jock's leather leash bit into her clenched palm. What did he mean by that?

The group walked through the gates of the Ryder estate. A chill breeze swept over them. All was quiet. If the stench of blood and bowls didn't stain the air, it might have been eerily peaceful; just a home asleep with the night. But Leone led them past the porch, and bone crunched under Inari's shoes. Preferring ignorant blindness, Inari deactivated Wind Rider, grateful that Jock, at least, was still beside her.

Over the foyer, down the halls, through the kitchen and into the stairwell curling from the floorboards to the wine cellar; their footsteps echoed, occasionally splashing in a pool of warm, thick liquid. Inari's boots were probably splattered in scarlet.

Leone sniffed, and after a few moments Lubbok shouted "over here!"

Tatsumi nudged her back and Inari followed the summon, Jock weaving her through the maze of wine shelves. Curiosity got the best of her, and Inari dipped into the air circulating the room. They were gathered at the very back, looking down at a metal latch jutting from the floor. The trapdoor was chained to a heavy padlock, but Lubbok slid his strings into the keyhole and soon it clicked open.

A stronger sense of fear had overtaken Helena; her heart pounded savagely, her fingers shook violently. Leone heaved the door open and a dank smell burst from the hole in the ground. Inari coughed, stepping back. The tip of Tatsumi's sword bit into her skin.

"Leone," Akame called coldly. The shadowed woman nodded her head towards a chest.

"Ah, right," Leone scratched her head sheepishly. She walked to the chest, slammed her heel against the lock, breaking it instantly, and pulled open the lid. Inari traced the contents: masks.

The lioness tossed one to her. "Put it on, and take a gander."

"Gander?" Lubbok smirked.

"Shut up, Lubb," Leone stretched her arms up, cracking her back.

"Hurry," Akame muttered impassionedly.

Tentatively, Inari strapped on her mask. It covered her entire face, some sort of filter jutting out from the mouth. She ordered Jock to stay and, bravely, descended the stairs. The air she breathed was fresh, but felt wet and slimy against her bare skin. She reached out the wind's inquisitive fingers and swept the room.

Shelves lined the walls, stacked with sealed jars. Bizarre machines and tools occupied the back. Steam billowed from a pot in a fireplace, curling in the air and slithering into the noses of shackled victims languishing on chairs in the room's center. Their heads lopped over the back of their theirs, blindfolded, and their mouths were plastered into ghostly grins. There were seven in total; four men and three women.

One of the women was crying, her limbs spasming and bucking against the restraints. "More! More!" She begged, her voice ragged with pain. "Please! I need more!"

Inari stood in shock. _What is this…_

Leone was besides her, breathing heavily through the mask. "You're parents are drug dealers," the lioness explained coldly, her jovial personality mourning the sight before them. "They anonymously kidnap peasants from the Capital and nearby villages, force them into drug addictions, then let them go, expanding their customer pool. The drugs are custom made…incredibly expensive, incredibly insatiable." Inari said nothing as Leone approached one of the men and removed his blindfold. His eyes were rolled back into his skull. "They don't see anything, don't process anything—completely unaware, so they have no one to point fingers at once they're back home, desperately running through the alleys in search of some sketchy dealer."

The others, minus Tatsumi, climbed down into the room. Helena was thrown onto the floor. She frantically pressed a mask to her face, evidentially not given the time to properly strap it on. Jock came last, carefully pawing down the staircase. Inari stood, clenching and unclenching her fists, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Inari, please," Helena begged.

Ignoring her mother's desperate cries, Inari fervently searched her mind for a stable thought to help float above the flood of conflict. Repulsive; the drugged prisoners were skinny as starved rats, covered in their own tears and excrement. Her parents were committing an abhorrent injustice. This is why Night Raid came—this was the "vengeance" Leone spoke of. Yet, Helena had crawled to throw herself at Inari's feet, clinging onto her daughter's skirts and sobbing into the soiled silk. Night Raid had killed Inari's father, and planned on killing her mother. It was at that moment that Inari became acutely aware of Helena's position: the woman had no chance at survival. She was as good as dead. Inari was the last living member of the Ryder bloodline. And unlike Helena, Inari still had a chance.

She would have to do whatever it took.

"Don't touch me," Inari kicked her mother away.

Helena fell on her hands and knees. "Inari!" She asked, shocked. "What are you doing—these people killed your father, they're going to kill me—"

"Yes," Inari's voice darkened. "They killed Aria, too. And all her guards, and all her family."

"What?" Helena gasped.

"But how are you any better?" Inari asked coldly.

Helena sputtered. "Inari! They're murderers! Please, don't—"

"Answer the question!" Inari bellowed, turning on her mother. She didn't trace Helena's face—Inari didn't want to know what scarring expression lay there.

"I am not a killer!" Helena shouted. "Your father and I have _never_ taken a life—"

"Bullshit," Leone cut in. "A life is as happy as it's livelihood, and you've ruined plenty. Your sick addicts starve from unemployment, or throw themselves at a knife or Danger Beasts feet to leave their wretched world behind."

"But that's their choice!" Helena demanded, furious, desperate. "We're not like the Casnes. Our motivations aren't for pleasure, but survival! And we always let the people go back home. It's a business. Money is never gained by innocent means."

"We're not surviving," Inari closed her eyes, "we've been _thriving."_ She didn't ask what her mother meant in her reference to the Casnes.

"It's a dog-eat-dog world out there," Helena tried to explain. "The only way _to_ survive is to thrive. We were just—"

Inari couldn't hear any more. An arc of air slashed Helena's throat, cutting the woman off mid-sentence. She bent, desperately clutching her neck, but her hands were no match for the shower of blood spraying in all directions. She gurgled, croaking like a phlegm-stuffed toad. Inari stood stock still, holding her sinful, gauntlet-ed forearms, until she heard the dull thump of her mother's body hitting the ground.

A wave of overdo exhaustion brought Inari to her knees. "What…a day," she sighed, mockingly, deliriously. The ringing in her ears muted all else. "I'm so…tired…"

The last thought Inari had was gratitude, for she couldn't see her mother's ravaged remains in front of her.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed! Let me know ^.^

In response to a guest's review: A conversation between Tatsumi and Inari is definitely in order. Also, in this chapter, he was left behind to stand watch while everyone else went down to the cellar, so he doesn't hear the mentions of the Casnes this time around. ^.^


	10. Kill Your Oblivion

**Arc Two: A New Life**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

 **Kill your Oblivion**

* * *

Awareness came gradually. First were the heavy blankets and smothering heat, and perspiration radiating warmth over her body. Then came the cold light. Discomfort, as the linens were of scratchy cotton.

 _Cotton?_

Memories flooded in, lapping against the walls of her mind and demanding themselves true. But where they memories, or dreams? Tapping into Wind Rider, Inari prayed to find herself in her room on her bed, immersed not in cotton but her wonderful silk beddings.

But nothing happened—Divine Atmosphere: Wind Rider was not on her wrists.

Cue the panic.

Shooting out of the bed, Inari fell atop a muscled heap of fur. It growled grumpily, then licked her face. _Jock!_ She hugged the lion, savoring the familiar outline of his face. His leash was still attached to the leather collar around his neck. Inari took it and had Jock lead her around the room. She held out her hands, tracing the walls, the bedposts, the windowsill, the knobs on the dresser in the corner; nothing was familiar. The hardwood floor was bare against her feet and every piece of furniture she found was naked. No curtains whispering by the window, no engravings on the candleholder sitting lonely on a small square night table, no canopy wrapping the bed in a misty dream. Her surroundings were absolutely foreign, and the door was locked.

And her mother was dead.

Having mapped out the barren room in her mind, Inari darted to the window. She ran her fingers over the cold glass until she found a latch, unhooked it, and pushed the window open. Crisp air flooded inside, bringing with it the fresh scent of woodland pine and freshwater. Sounds of far-off squeals reached her ears. Without knowing how high she was, it would be beyond reckless to jump. If she had Wind Rider, escape-by-window would be a breeze. But she didn't. Inari was stuck.

Turning back into the room, Inari took inventory of her surroundings. There was nothing in the dresser or night table draws. The airy gown fluttering just short of her knees was soft, comfortable, and definitely not from her wardrobe. She was barefoot, blind, but not bleeding. Alive. Jock was still with her, she had been given warm linens, clean sleepwear; a glass of something scentless had been left on the dresser. Inari pointedly ignored it. The candleholder was cold.

Footsteps echoed from beyond her room. A dismal list of options ran through her head. Inari yanked the glass of unknown liquid from the dresser then raced for the door, accidentally running into it. Recovering quickly, she hastily traced the doorframe, determined which way it would open and flattened herself against the adjacent wall. She and Jock would be hidden from the open doorway.

The footsteps stopped outside. The lock clicked. Inari's heart felt like it was strangling her throat.

Slowly, the door opened. "Hello?" A timid, youthful voice called out. "Wha-"

Inari jumped from her hiding place, tossed the liquid in the cup towards the direction of the voice. Following the sound of the liquid hitting it's target, she chucked the glass cup, winning a savage _thump_ and a cry. She opened the door fully and made to leave, but a soft hand yanked her wrist and snapped her back into the room.

Stumbling, Inari tripped over the first body she had fell, landing hard on the floor. Jock growled, but Inari kept his leash firmly at her side. The only possibility she could think of was that she was a captive of Night Raid. If so, a lion, no matter how fierce, stood no chance, and Inari simply couldn't afford to lose her last line of sight.

"My, sleeping beauty's a rowdy one," Lionel said, her voice grinning.

"Ow…Is that why you had me open the door?" Tatsumi groaned from the floor.

"Astute, this one is," Lionel teased. "So, how are ya?"

"I'm soaking wet," Tatsumi complained.

"I wasn't asking you, moron. Did'ya sleep well? Hungry? Ready to talk? Oh, that's right—you're blind. I'm talking to you, Inari."

Yea, she figured. "Where am I?"

"Right to the point, I like that," Lionel said. The floorboards creaked, and from Tatsumi's sudden outburst of surprise, Inari guessed that Lionel had yanked him to his feet. "You're in our base."

She was about to repeat the word "our" with the air of a question, but then Inari supposed there was no point in asking the obvious. Instead, she settled for, "why?"

"Well, we couldn't exactly leave you," Lionel said. "What with you seeing our faces—"

"I didn't see anything," Inari said matter-of-factly. "I'm blind."

"Ah, but you did, didn't you?" Lionel purred.

"Your Imperial Arms lets you read the wind currents, doesn't it?" Tatsumi asked, albeit a bit eagerly. "I wouldn't be surprised if you could describe our faces perfectly."

"If you're going to kill me," Inari growled, "at least give my gauntlets back so it can be a fair fight."

"What makes you think we play fairly?" Lionel teased. Inari flinched at the sudden finger-tap on her nose. The rowdy woman then let out a refreshed sigh as, Inari assumed, she stretched her arms wide. "But we're not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyways."

Again, "why?" Inari asked.

"Well, your friend Seiger is pretty worried about you," Lionel cooed. _Seiger!_ Lionel laughed. "From the look on your face, I'd say I'd got your attention. Your friend took quite a beating, but he'll be fine."

"Where is he?" Inari demanded.

"Washing the laundry with Mine," Tatsumi answered. "You haven't met her yet."

"There's a house meeting later tonight," Lionel continued. "Everything will be sorted out then, so let's say we take it easy? We can introduce you to everyone."

Why were they being so…casual? They treated her like a guest, not a prisoner. Inari decided to test the water. "Can I have my Imperial Arms back?"

Lionel laughed. "Maybe. It depends on whether you join us or not."

"Join… _Night Raid?"_ Inari sputtered. She wasn't sure whether to be shocked at how easy her plan worked or be offended that they would assume she would be willing to even _consider_ allying with the murderers of her family and closest friend.

"Your friend's all for it," Lionel said dismissively.

" _Seiger's a Night Raider_?" Inari sputtered.

"Well, he's considering it," Tatsumi clarified. "But I'm sure he's more worried about you."

Inari shook her head like her thoughts had clogged, but no stones turned loose.

"Anyways, lets see," Lionel murmured. "Akame's out hunting dinner, Lubbok's at the Capital, Bulat is probably training downstairs. He might be our best bet."

Inari crossed her arms. "You know, without my Imperial Arms, I can't get the most of my introductions."

Lionel laughed. "Maybe so, but we're not _that_ dumb. You want a sword? We'll give you a sword, if that'll make you feel better."

"No thanks," Inari grumbled. Without Wind Rider, a sword meant next to nothing.

"Bulat will probably let you touch his face, if that's your kind of thing," Tatsumi suggested.

"What are you saying, Tatsumi?" Lionel asked devilishly.

The kid sputtered. "That's not what I meant! I just—If you want pictures in your head—no! I mean—"

"It's fine," Inari said quickly. She really couldn't care less.

"Alright then, mister smooth-guy," Lionel purred. "Let's say you and I show Inari here what our resident spearman has to offer?"

* * *

Please review if you enjoyed!

I'll be having some chapters soon where Inari spends one-on-one time with other characters. Let me know if there's anyone in particular you want to see a lot of!


	11. Kill What You Were Led to Believe

**Chapter Eleven**

 **Kill What You Were Led to Believe**

* * *

"Hey! Bulat! Put that stick away—we've got a new plaything for ya!" Leone's rowdy nature was like a smack in the face. She had pushed Inari through the entire building, skipping the kitchen and driving the group straight outside. Without Wind Rider, Inari could discern nothing from her surroundings, save for the scent of pine in the distance and the rustle of leaves somewhere beyond. The woman was so unsophisticated, so… _animalistic_...Yet jovial. It churned Inari's emotions until the poor girl didn't know _what_ to think anymore.

Inari should be in mourning, but the easiness that ran through the household made it…difficult to be sad. It was shocking, seeing these people so seemingly care-free after a night of brutal bloodshed. A dense fog of negativity settled upon Inari's head, but she was surrounded by such positive stimuli that struck through the cloud like bright lightning. Inari felt…almost desensitized…As if reality was but a rough dream she merely had to pass through. She should hate these people, yet…in the end, it was her who had done the vile deed to Helena's throat.

Conflict had become her new normal. Inari didn't know what to think or what to feel, so she would play along. She would gather all the information she could, and then turn them in to the Empire. Yes…That would be her plan…For the time being.

"Excuse me?" She growled at Leone, immensely disliking the woman's implication.

An unfamiliar, booming voice laughed. "Don't mind Leone," a man who, purely from his voice, sounded massive and strong, approached them. Inari hated that she couldn't trace him out.

"Besides, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to Bulat," Tatsumi whispered to her. "Lubbock, on the other hand—"

"Worry?" Inari asked coldly.

Tatsumi stuttered. "What—No, I only meant—"

"Tatsumi, why don't you go make us all some cold lemonade?" Leone purred.

"Seriously?" Tatsumi sounded angry.

"The freshest of the lot serves the others," Leone quipped, "right Bulat?"

"But what about her?" Tatsumi probably pointed at Inari.

"Well, she's still a guest," Leone said dismissively.

"Fine," Tatsumi bit. "Night Raid doesn't have guests," he grumbled under his breath as he stormed inside.

"Such a cutie," Leionel laughed.

A thoughtful grumble menaced from Bulat's throat. Jock shifted and began pawing the ground, scratching through the hard-packed dirt below them. "Does he have a name?" Bulat asked.

"Jock," Inari said indifferently.

"Hm. Quite a loyal one, he is," Bulat chuckled. "Refused to leave your bedside—we could hardly get to you."

A smile flitted across her face. Jock served as more than just a seeing-eye guide. He was her companion, brought to her side only days after the accident…She was seven when he was purchased, and the two had grown quite close over the years.

But then the full consequence of Bulat's words landed. "You were in my room?" She asked coldly.

"Well, we had to make sure you were still alive, didn't we?" Leone exclaimed.

Inari must have looked confused, because Bulat explained, "You were asleep for nearly two days."

Stiffening, Inari gasped. "Oh." Two days? She exhaled shakily, suddenly aware of how…hungry…she was…The shock of waking somewhere new had all but subsided, leaving her with the dull ache of reality. Unable, or maybe just unwilling, to stand any longer, Inari sunk to her knees. _Get up,_ she berated herself. _You can't show weakness—not here, not to them._ But the wounds in her heart—the wounds she thought she stitched up—trickled open, and Inari remembered that her parents were dead. Dead, and…villainous…

"Here, please take this," a kind voice soothed in her ear. Soft hands folded Inari's over a glass of something cold.

She was tired, but not stupid. Inari grimaced. How could she trust a drink she couldn't even see? She was being cautious, not paranoid.

"It's just lemonade," the voice assured softly. It belonged to someone Inari hadn't met. "You need to drink something. Please."

"You didn't take her to the kitchen?!" Bulat exclaimed.

"She didn't tell me she was thirsty!" Leone defender herself.

The bickering only made the ringing in Inari's ears more prominent. It was against her better judgment, but the cup was so brisk in her hands, slippery with condensation. With the sun beating on her back, Inari raised the glass to her lips.

"Drink it slowly," Bulat suggested.

Their concern irritated her. These people who murdered her family were treating her with worry? It was cruel, but then again, she should expect nothing less. Swallowing her pride and anger, Inari took slow sips. The lemonade was a spark of sour on her dehydrated tongue.

Draining the glass, Inari wiped the back of her hand across her lips. "Thank you," she said briskly.

"Inari, this is Sheele," Leone introduced the new woman.

"Nice to meet you," Sheele's voice ducked, indicating she probably bowed in greeting. She sounded delicate, like a flower with it's petals resting limp in the air. Unlike Bulat, who reeked of sweat, and Leone, who emanated with a husky, dry scent, Sheele's perfume was very feint and…Bore traces of jasmine, just like Helena. Inari's stomach churned at the connection.

"Are you sure you should be introducing all your members?" Inari asked, hoping to prompt more information.

"Bah," Leone said dismissively. "You've met enough of us already to be a threat. One more can't hurt."

"That's an awfully stupid way of thinking," Inari's lip curled.

"Look at this kid—" Leone suddenly threw her arm around Inari's shoulders. "Thinks she's so tough. I love it."

"Get off of me," Inari grumbled. Leone ignored her.

"I think what Leone meant to say," Sheele spoke softly, "is that since you already know several of us, we won't be able to just, well, let you go, so there isn't a harm with you meeting the rest of us."

Yes, but what if she somehow escaped? It was foolish to be so confidant with their ability. Dismissing the concern, Inari focused on the small hole of opportunity Sheele had given her. "Won't be able to let me go?" She quoted.

"You've seen our base," Leone said.

"No, I haven't," Inari corrected. Not without Wind Rider.

Leone laughed merrily. "Nice try, kid."

"I…wasn't trying anything," Inari's defenses were futile.

"No," Leone continued as if Inari hadn't said anything, "with the information you've been given, we'll probably end up having to kill you."

Honestly, Inari wasn't convinced that was true. If they planned on killing her, they would have done so already. They certainly wouldn't have been so hospitable towards her. They had nothing to gain by keeping her captive; Inari was void of any information or connections that they would find worthwhile. There was no one left to pay her ransom, and she had no direct political relationships. That job had belonged to her father.

Besides, Leone had already explained Inari's situation. She was a candidate for recruitment, and wasn't planning on rejecting the once-in-a-lifetime offer.

"What? Nothing? Ok, Fine—" Leone sighed. "We won't be killing you. Probably. See, if you end up enlistin', then it's best to know the gang already, right?"

Inari sniffed. "Fine." She turned to the direction of Sheele's voice and asked, very bluntly, "so, are you the one who shoots through skulls, or cuts people in half?" She swallowed the rising cringe at the memory of the corpses littering the Ryder Estate left and right.

"My Imperial Arms is Cutter of Creation: Extase," Sheele said sheepishly. "In the simplest descriptions, they are, um, giant sheers that can cut through anything."

Startling, how such a timid-sounding girl walked around at night, separating people from their torsos. Inari turned to Bulat. "So, then, you're the sniper?"

"Ah, no, that's Mine," Bulat answered sheepishly.

"The one doing laundry with Seiger?" Inari asked dryly.

"Haha, yes, the poor guy," Bulat laughed. "No, I'm afraid I just fight with my trusted Incursio."

Inari's eyes narrowed. She didn't know too much about the existing Imperial Arms, but Incursio was infamous, even to her. It enveloped the user in nearly impenetrable armor, but no one had managed to done it successfully for thousands of years. Those who tried in the past died instantly. If Bulat truly did have an Affinity for Incursio, it was incredibly impressive.

Inari hummed. "Are you the Bulat from the posters, then?" She imagined the papers plastered all about the capital, displaying the Empire's most wanted. Of the Night Raid, a man named Bulat, Akame, and a woman Najenda had all managed to get their identities publicized. Bulat was a former military man who abandoned the Empire—that's all she knew.

The man chuckled. "The one and only."

"Hm." Inari passively tangled her fingers in Jock's mane.

"Um, I think Akame might be back now from her hunting," Sheele said timidly. "If we go in, maybe we can get you something quick to eat."

Inari grimaced. As much as she was hesitant to see the infamous Akame again, her stomach told a different story. "Alright."

"'Hope you're a meat lover," Bulat's massive hand slapped her shoulder. Inari, unprepared, fell forwards. Bulat grabbed her arm and yanked her back, and she stumbled into him. "I'm so sorry!" He blurted. "I forgot that—I'm just not use to—" He struggled to find a politically correct way to mention her blindness.

"You're not wearing a shirt," Inari said bluntly, internally squirming at the feel of his sweaty torso against her neck. She couldn't tell where, exactly, the man started and ended, and she wasn't about to run her hands over his half-naked body to get a proper estimate; but the man was _huge._ His chest was a mountain of sculpted muscles.

"Oh, right, sorry—" Bulat gently pushed her away, making sure she was steady before releasing her shoulders. "I've been training all afternoon."

Evidently.

They made their way inside, bumping into Tatsumi.

"Wha—Where are you guys going?" He asked.

"On a hunt for food," Leone answered.

"But I just made all this lemonade," the poor kid whined. Apparently, he had only just finished with everyone elses' drinks, and was on his way to join them outside.

"Well, it's better than nothing, I guess," Leone said. The sound of glass swiping across metal and the clinking of ice cubes was followed by the woman's almost violent chugging .

"Better then nothing?" Tatsumi exclaimed, flabbergasted—"You're the one who told me to make them in the first place!"

"Move along, pal," Leone said after a refreshed breath. "Move along."

* * *

Inari was greeted by a blast of ashen air. A sweet tang of roasted meat buttered the room, and the crackling of boiling oil piqued her taste buds. The rhythmic claps of a chopping knife halted the moment the group of five, plus Jock, paraded into the kitchen.

"No, get out," Akame's cool voice muttered from the back of the room.

"It's all good," Leone assured, "we've just come for some—"

"I know why you're here," Akame stated. "Dinner is in a half hour. You can wait. Tatsumi, finish these carrots."

"A please would be nice," Tatsumi murmured sheepishly, shuffling across the floor. Akame didn't respond.

"The food's not for me," Leone insisted, pushing Inari onto a stool. A smooth marble countertop stretched out beyond her torso, the barrier between them and the food.

"Inari hasn't eaten yet," Sheele explained apologetically. "We were hoping you might have something for her."

A silence ensued, and Inari could swear she felt Akame's gaze bearing into her. Willing herself not to fidget uncomfortably, Inari maintained what she hoped was a stoic expression.

"When was the last time you ate?" Akame finally said, albeit dryly.

The carriage ride back from Aria's house, Inari thought. She was amazed at how long ago that felt…That gruesome Danger Beast, Aria's letter—it may as well have been eons ago. "The day you Night Raiders decided to pay the Ryder estate a visit," Inari made her voice slightly nonchalant. She gave a little laugh. "Sorry, did that sound hostile? I didn't mean it too." Yes she did.

Akame said nothing, but her shoes slickly turned on their heels. Inari felt Sheele hovering beside her as clangs and shuffles came from the other side of the kitchen. The succulent perfumes of cooking food haunted Inari's nose. In a matter of minutes, there was a whoosh as someone pushed a plate across the countertop.

"That's all she gets?" Leone grouched. Inari tapped her fingers on the dismal array of food in front of her. A toasted slice of bread crunched at her touch, still warm and delicately charred. Tossed around the edge of the plate was a pile of wet lettuce. That was it.

"She hasn't eaten in two days," the chopping of Akame's knife resumed, a quicker rhythm than Tatsumi's, who evidently wasn't as confidant with his cooking skills. Offering no further explanation, Akame threw them out.

They led her away, her mental map of the base expanding as she walked more ground. Settling into a cushioned loveseat, Inari nibbled at the toast. It was bland, completely unseasoned, and crunched with every bite. The sodden lettuce swallowed like a lump of seaweed and made her reflexively cringe.

And they just…talked. It was the most bizarre thing. They told her about Lubbock's bookstore, about the time Sheele tried to mop the floor and ended up just making a bigger mess, how last month Akame made a meal so spicy, even Bulat was brought to tears. Inari listened to their eager voices, utterly dumbfounded at how…normal they all were. She was having a casual, almost friendly conversation with the murderers of her house.

"How long has Tatsumi been in Night Raid?" Inari finally asked. Something about him had been bothering her.

"Last week, actually," Leone answered.

"Oh, wow," Inari sat back. She thought a moment, sucking on a corner of toast until it dissolved in her mouth, tainting her tongue with a charred aftertaste. "Can I ask…What happened with the Casnes?"

"You knew them," Leone said, "you mentioned that girl Aria."

"She was…a friend," Inari explained, trying to keep a stoic face. "I had just returned from a day's trip to her estate, when I ran into you. Aria mentioned Tatsumi in a letter and I'm curious if that's a coincidence. And also…" Inari scratched absently at the bread, "you said that Night Raid attacked my parents because of their…unethical side business. I was under the impression that you simply killed the wealthy out of spite, but it seems that might not be the case. So…I guess what I'm trying to ask is...Who are you?"

"We're killers," Leone answered simply. "When you get down it to, that's all there is."

"We represent the darkness that's in every good," Sheele spoke softly. "We fight fire with fire, so one day something better can rise from the ashes."

"That boy Seiger said you're not aware of the reality of the Empire," Bulat sniffed. "But it's, uh, it's pretty awful."

"What does that mean?" Inari asked skeptically.

"It's corrupt to high hell, is what it means," Leone yawned. "Bribery, bloodshed, rape—the elite of our beloved Empire are some of the sickest bastards you'll ever meet, but they get away with it because the Emperor is just a little kid. All the real power lies with his advisor, Prime Minister Honest, and he's the worst of them all. The wealthy are in the mindset that they're above everyone else, that they have the right to whatever they want, and Honest encourages it. No rebellion has been able to survive against him yet, but that's gonna change. See, Inari, we're here to thin their numbers a little bit, take out the big players so there's less to deal with when the rebellion finally strikes."

"An empire born from violence will only lead to more," Bulat grumbled. "So we're getting as much of the violence out of the way now, so when the time's finally right, the people have a chance for a peaceful future."

That all seemed well and sweet, but they were talking about full on coup-d'état. Inari closed her eyes, containing all her emotional turmoil within. Outside, she appeared thoughtful and calm, but her mind was wracked with a maelstrom of conflict. These people were responsible for the death of her parents and friends. But if what they were saying was true…No. No, she resolved, there was no way she could ever, ever stand beside them. They were being biased. They were using this "golden cause" as a pretext for their basic craving for bloodlust. Yes, that had to be it. They were killers—the weakest monsters are those who rationalize their actions. The Empire wasn't nearly as awful as they claimed. They might fool themselves, but Inari wouldn't buy it.

She hated them. She hated how casually they treated her, after forcing her into the situation to kill Helena's life. Inari would play along, accept their distorted perceptions of reality as truth, and ultimately lead them to their demise.

"What did the Casnes do?" she asked quietly.

Sheele let out a slow breath. "They took in the homeless, luring them in with promises of safety and a better future—"

"Then tortured them to death for their own enjoyment," Leone finished.

"Aria too?" Inari warped her voice to sound pained.

Bulat cleared his throat in an affirmative gruff.

"And Tatsumi?" Inari asked, her voice strained.

"Would have been another victim," Leone answered, "but we killed them before that happened."

 _\- Too bad he'll probably be long gone the next time we see each other. -_

No, she wouldn't believe it. Inari had known Aria for years—no, it was impossible.

"Anyways, it'll be nice to have a doctor around," an unfamiliar girl's voice drifted in from across the room. "Leone heals pretty quickly, but the rest of us aren't so lucky."

"That's cause you wait for the very last second to shoot that Pumpkin of yours!" Leone called out.

"Pumpkin?" Seiger's voice asked. Inari shot to her feet. A pair of footsteps grew louder, accompanied by a series of clomp-clomp-clack-ing.

"It's my Imperial Arm's names," the girl answered, "See—"

"Seiger!" Inai cried, cutting the girl off.

There was a pause, then the clomping grew more hectic until, finally, "Inari!" The source of the rythmic thumps came from him, she realized, as, with Jock's assistance, she found her way into the man's arms. He swayed unsteadily, but she gripped him tightly, burying her face into his chest. He smelled like chocolate and ash, a heat-wrenching piece of home.

"Um, excuse me," the girl said cattily.

"Let it go, Mine," Leone yawned.

Seiger pulled himself away, holding Inari by her shoulders and most certainly examining her. "Are you ok? How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," she said, slightly dazed. Shaking her head, Inari scowled. "Don't 'are you ok' me!" She slapped his forearm. "What the hell were you thinking back there? You nearly died, Seiger! Blood," she floundered, "was dripping from, from your ears!"

"I didn't have to worry," Seiger laughed. "I had you with me."

She frowned. "How are your feet?" Inari might have been able to heal his mortal wound, but Breath of Life didn't work on non-life-threatening injuries. Seiger had all but offered his feet for that Danger Beast to swallow whole.

"They're fine," he said. "I have these crutches to help take off the weight." Then, to emphasize his point, he clacked whatever he held against the floor.

She wasn't convinced. It had only been two days, and he was already walking? "Take his shoes off."

"What—" Seiger protested.

"Someone?" Inari turned her head, hoping someone would help. "Please?" She added.

"Ya sure?" Lionel stepped closer.

"Do it," Inari sighed, crossing her arms.

"Sorry, brother," Bulat apologized before a chorus of grunts and shuffling ensued. The soft slump of cushion indicated that they had him pinned in a chair.

Leone whistled.

"What? How bad is it?" Inari asked.

"Bad," Sheele whispered.

"I'll get some water," Mine offered. "TATSUMI! WE NEED A BUCKET OF WATER!"

Inari crouched down and lightly touched Seiger's feet. They were soaked in blood. "Seiger!" She cried, furious, "You're a doctor! What the hell are you thinking?"

"Well, technically, I'm not a doctor yet," was his sheepish reply.

The sound of sloshing water spilling on the floor rounded the corner. "Someone called for some—woah," Tatsumi cut off. "What happened?"

"He stuck his feet in a Danger Beast's mouth, is what happened," Inari growled.

"Damn," Leone laughed.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Seiger promised, though Inari wondered if it was only his pride speaking. "Here, Tatsumi, can I have the bucket? Thanks."

"Take this from the laundry," Mine said.

Seiger gruffed as something heavy caught in his hands. "Thank you, Mine," he said kindly. The girl hummed in response. Inari, relying solely on her sense of hearing, listened intently as something was submerged in the water. A rainfall splashed back to the bucket as Seiger wrung the washcloth.

Upon remembering the fight, Inari stiffened. Hands on hips, she furrowed her brows and asked Seiger, suspiciously, "what did you throw in its mouth, anyways?"

The sound of towel scrubbing skin paused. "Oh, um," Seiger cleared his throat. "Can we talk about that later?" He lowered his voice, though with everyone else crowded around, secrecy was impossible.

Inari frowned. "Why?"

Seiger started to say something, but he was cut short.

"Because," a new voice, foreign and chilling, cut through the conversation, "I think it's about time we call a House Meeting."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys! I'll start making chapters longer now-thanks for the feedback!

I'm trying to stay true to the canon characters' personalities, so feel free to let me know if I'm not doing someone justice. Your suggestions are always helpful!

Please review if you enjoyed!


	12. Kill Your Identity

**Chapter Twelve**

 **Kill Your Identity**

* * *

The seven members of Night Raid stood in scattered alignment around Nejenda, their leader. With the entire team present, a chilling tension darkened the atmosphere. Akame had been dragged from the kitchen, away from the steaming meats whose scent drifted enticingly into the room. Seiger was given a chair, and Lubbock had, apparently, returned from the Capital a half hour before hand, and was just finished securing the base's perimeter.

Inari, blind without Wind Rider, took inventory of what she could. Mine, Lubbock, Leone, Sheele, Bulat, Tatsumi, Akame, and Nejenda; never would Inari have believed she would one day find herself surrounded by the infamous Night Raid…And in non-threatening circumstances, no less. Or, well, that wasn't entirely true. As long as Inari was in their presence, she would always be in danger. The House Meeting felt more like a court hearing, and she would have to be incredibly thoughtful with her case.

Leone. The rowdy woman was like Helena's absolute nightmare; unsophisticated, rude, the type of person who rests her feet on the table. Inari remembered the woman's shape in the wind from _that_ night: Leone was tall, stout, muscular and busty. She had had claws and a wild mane of hair, however when Leone earlier wrapped her arms around Inari's shoulders, the woman's nails were normal, if not filed down. Inari's best guess was that the belt around Leone's waist (that suspiciously wasn't used to keep any clothing from falling down) was her Imperial Arms, and, when activated, granted her with some animalistic power.

Akame was down right terrifying. The moon to Leone's sun, the living shadow was quiet, cold, and subtle. When Leone lunged, Akame stalked, like a panther or crow. Together with Bulat and Nejenda, Akame's posters were plastered all about the capital. She was of the Empire's Most Wanted. Her Imperial Arms killed with the slightest cut.

Sheele was the sweet woman who cut people in half. Mine seemed a catty individual, her Imperial Arms, apparently named Pumpkin, some sort of device that propelled mental projections. It could be nothing else, because by process of elimination, it was Mine who shattered the guards' skulls with a bullet of orange light from above. Lubbock, who by all appearances was very easy-going, posed quite an obstacle with his prehensile strings. Bulat had his armor, Incursio, and was an outright bull; strong, massive, an ex-military commander. He was also very compassionate. So far.

Tatsumi was an odd one. Inari couldn't quite put her finger on _what,_ exactly, it was that bothered her, but…Well, he was small. As far as she knew, he had no Imperial Arms. He hadn't left quite an impression on her, acting as Night Raid's pushover. But Inari knew better than to judge on appearances. He could be hiding an incredible power, for all she knew. If it was indeed him who Aria referred to in her letter…

No. Inari would dissect that later. Her top priority was surviving this "House Meeting". Afterward, she could crawl in a ball and cry about her family. Afterward, she could hate herself for what she did, confide in Seiger, cuddle against Jock and wallow in misery and shame. Afterward. Afterward, she could feel.

Night Raid, Seiger, and Inari all faced towards Nejenda, who Seiger had once described from the posters as a proud woman with a clean face and very light hair. Her voice certainly projected with a sense of importance and strength, and mechanic clicks and a grinding of metal on metal, accompanied her movements, like she wore something composed of gears and bolts. Inari and Seiger were under scrutiny in the rooms center, Inari standing boldly behind her childhood friend's chair.

"Well, tell me what you think," Nejenda said coolly.

Inari bit her lip, her mind racing. "What are our options?"

"You can join us," Nejenda said, her voice curling, "become a member of Night Raid—" Inari and Seiger both interrupted her at the same time,

"And if we don't?" Seiger asked.

"Why?" Inari wanted to know. She immediately clamped her mouth shut, but stood firm with her question. Unlike Seiger, Inari had already made her decision, so she didn't really care what the alternative to joining entailed.

Najenda hummed. "If you don't join," she elected to answer Seiger first, "we're not going to kill you. That's not what we do. But, since you've seen our faces, we can't just let you go, either. No, you two will be sent to one of our off-site factories. You'll live a simple life of manual labor—you might even be able to convince yourselves that your efforts aren't going to the aid of the Rebellion."

There it was again, mention of a Rebellion. Inari knew that the Empire was built on some-what shaky foundations as of late. Every few years, a new cause popped up, declaring war, but it was always ruthlessly obliterated. Small people are envious of the Big, and that leads to resentment and a want of change. It was simply how the world worked. But there was something about this Rebellion that sent a chill crawling up Inari's spine, some ominous forbearing. Night Raid was assassinating Empire Elite left and right—even Oger, if Seiger's sources were correct. At the rate they were succeeding, there would be no Empire left standing when this Rebellion finally comes marching in. Prime Minister Honest was a powerful and generous man—he held Inari's family in high esteem. If he was indeed one of Night Raid's main targets, then it was Inari's duty to protect him. She would discover the location of their base, gather as much Intel of the Rebellion as she could, then report it all to the Capital.

That was the right thing to do.

Her parents might have functioned with a dark secret, but surely Honest was unaware. And Inari had known Aria nearly her entire life…There was no way…

"To answer you, Inari," Najenda continued, "it's simple, really. I've been told that it was you who delivered the final blow to Lady Helena Ryder, without restraint, mercy, or shame. When you learned the truth, you knew the right thing to do. Someone who can sever their emotional ties so absolutely deserves a spot on our team. And Seiger, well, you share our political and philosophical outlook. You are both warriors, and, let's be honest, you're here already. You saw our faces and since we're not going to kill you, we may as well try for two new recruits. You have no where else to go."

"Will we…have to kill people?" Seiger asked softly.

"Yes," Najenda answered. "Night Raid is a band of assassins. If you join us, you will be one too."

"Do you think you can do that, Seiger?" Akame murmured. It was clear to everyone that Inari was capable of shedding blood—she can committed the biggest breach of loyalty humanly possible. Inari killed her own mother. Murdering a stranger should be much easier on the heart…But Seiger? Alarmed, Inari was surprised that she had no idea what he would say.

After a pause, Seiger said quietly, "I do." His voice weighed with determination and certainty.

"As you probably know, we don't just kill anyone," Najenda said casually. "Before Night Raid accepts any jobs, we personally investigate our clients and victims. We're hired assassins, yes, but we only go after those who have bent to our level."

"Our level?" Seiger repeated. "Why do you equate yourselves to the monsters you kill?"

"Because, Seiger," Leone purred, "we're monsters too."

"On the inside," Mine clarified.

"When you come down to it," Sheele whispered, "we're hired killers."

"It's a dog-eat-dog world out there," Lubbock yawned, "your mom was right about that. And we're a dog who likes to eat."

"Revenge is not a holy thing," Bulat grunted, "but it's almost all we do. Our sins can catch up to us at any moment—every day is one we might die. You must be willing to accept that."

Well, Inari thought, at least they admitted it.

"They gave me this speech too," Tatsumi explained. "Can you believe, it was only a week ago when I was standing where you are…I thought it all sounded pretty selfless. Defiling your soul, or something, to clean the world. But then I went on my first mission…It's one thing to kill someone in the heat of the moment, but to plan out a murder, to pre-meditate it, to lure the person out of the public eye with some stupid excuse and then draw your sword when their back is turned…He was a terrible person…Non even deserving to be called human…But in the end, the defining drive that sunk my sword through his skin, the primal, most singular thought that pushed me over the edge, was not justice. In that moment, what really mattered to me was that I had to be strong. I was _sent_ to kill him because he was monstrous. But I killed him because I wanted to prove myself. It had nothing to do with him. My motive was selfish and unethical. I'm not a hero, I'm a murderer, who happens to murder deserving people. In the end, blood is spilled, and no one cares about what thoughts went through your head."

Inari wondered who Tatsumi's victim was. More pressing, though, was Seiger. What was he planning? Inari wanted Seiger beside her, but…he must have been told about her parents. Their fate, and their crime. It was at that moment that Inari realized her motivation for joining Night Raid might completely differ from his. Could he forgive them? What if he _wanted_ to join them? What if, when she betrays Night Raid, she would be betraying Seiger, too?

"I'll join," Seiger decided, resolute. He had admitted confidence in his ability to kill, but how was he so sure? He had sounded _so certain,_ but what did that imply? "I give myself to you, Night Raid. I understand the dangers involved, and I accept them."

Inari didn't hesitate. "And I, as well. Jock, too," she attempted a light humor, tugging at the lion's leash. Grunting, Jock nudged his muzzle against Inari's hips.

"Welcome to the team," Najenda's voice grinned. "Leone, can you give Inari back her Imperial Arms? Tomorrow, Seiger will shadow Lubbock, and Inari, you'll go with Mine. Neither of you have much by the way of clothing, so I'm willing to give you an advance in your next payment. Go to the Capital, get what you need, and stay out of trouble. Tatsumi, you're with Bulat tomorrow. Any questions? No? Great—Akame?"

"Dinner is ready," the woman's voice was a mono-tone.

"Great," Najenda clapped. "Night Raid, dig in."

Sitting together at a table, and eating shared food, is a symbol of fellowship. There is little else that is more intimate for a group. Inari ate some bread and butter, and a small sliver of fish, then quickly excused herself.

She waited in her room, expecting Seiger to follow after her, but minutes passed in silent solitude. The cloth of Aria's belongings was sprawled across a pillow—Inari had found it under her bed. Seiger must have put it there. Jock chewed juicily on a raw slab of something cold, his salivating gnawing the only sound in the air. Finally, at least, Inari had Wind Rider covering her forearms. She sat in the bed, legs crossed, arms at rest, and mapped the entire base. Everyone, including Seiger, was still at the table.

It was then, when Inari truly felt alone.

Because Seiger was eating with them. Laughing. Drinking. What if…What if he really meant it, when he said he would join? _I give myself to you, Night Raid._ But he already belonged to Inari, and her family! He was there even before the accident. He was taken in, given food, a home, even a spot at their table. Danven paid his tuition, bought him the Ryder Crest! He didn't have the right to leave her, now especially, after all they had done for him. Maybe he was just keeping up appearances. He couldn't _really_ ally himself with them. Seiger was simply acting the part. That had to be it.

Inari crawled off the bed, making her way to the window. Pushing it open, she stuck her head into the fresh evening air, savoring the cold like a splash of water. Holding out her hands, Inari surveyed the base grounds, following the air over every tree and blade of grass, tracing the edges of the Cliffside that roofed the house, skipping over the freshwater lake rippling nearby. Leaves ruffled in a weak wind, wolves howled in the distance, and forest stretched out for several miles on every side. The Capital couldn't be too far away, if Mine planned on taking Inari too and back within a day, but Wind Rider wasn't strong enough to reach that far.

Closing the window, Inari slowly returned to the bed. She passed her hands over Aria's little knick-knacks, the last remnants of the youthful sprite Inari knew and loved. Shimmying her hands into the white glove, Inari traced the palm. The fabric was like a whisper against her skin. It was given to Aria by a nobleman's son, the girl's childhood romance before his father was relocated to a country-side province. Aria never saw him again, but kept the glove all that time, once confiding to Inari that she hoped the boy still had it's match, and that he looked at it from time to time. Who knew—maybe he did exactly that.

Picking up the hairpin, Inari turned it over in her hands, physically tracing the intricate gemstones and metal. It was probably beautiful, and Aria had worn it for every birthday. Mrs. Casne bought it for her daughter when Aria was born. Inari wove it into her hair, fumbling blindly; a piece of Aria to carry with her.

Pathetic, Inari realized, that her sole possession was a gift to someone else. Everything she ever owned was lost. Inari had Jock, Wind Rider, and nothing else. Her clothes, her mementos, her family, her _life;_ gone.

Gone.

Gone.

"They're _gone,_ Jock," she hissed quietly. "Everything. Gone."

If she had never left for Aria's estate, if Inari had been home at the very start of Night Raid's attack, maybe she could have saved them. Danven wouldn't be left slumped in an armchair, his neck twisted. Helena wouldn't have suffered Wind Rider's blow—Inari wouldn't have had to kill her mother to survive. They could have all fled in the secret passage, and stayed in the tunnel—no one would have been able to find them. If Inari had stayed, her parents would still be alive.

But then…They would continue hurting people…

How could it be…It was impossible to accept, yet Inari, as the phrase went, "saw it with her own eyes". She was there, in the cellar, hearing that wretched woman begging for more. Helena admitted to the crime herself. And yet…It was impossible…They were her _parents._ They were kind, buying her gifts, taking Seiger in after the tragedy; the Ryders were a family of military heroes and Capital elitists. Inari couldn't accept yet, yet there was no way _not to._

Finally alone, Inari shed her stoic composure, and doubled over. She shoved her face into a pillow to stifle her wails.

 _They were horrible people…Drug dealers…Worse than that…But they were…Mother…And Father…And they never hurt me…_

Her shoulders trembled with grief. The pillow was quickly damp with tears. Jock huffed, then climbed unto the bed. The bedframe groaned and the mattress sagged under his weight. With the indifference of a wild lion, Jock plopped down beside her, pawing at the linens. She felt the wet kiss of his nose on her head, and Inari responsively leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and trading the pillow for his luscious fur. He moaned softly, empathizing with her pain, and snuggled her body, rubbing his cheek against her head twice before resting on her back.

Night Raid might use the cover of darkness to kill, but Inari used it to mourn. With no one to see her, she wallowed in the grief of her loss. Because the bed she lay on wasn't her, the room she cried in wasn't hers, not even the clothing on her back. She had lost everything, and it was all Night Raid's doing.

But…

What did it mean? If her parents truly did what they…did…

And Aria…

If Night Raid was right about Inari's parents, then what if they were about the Casnes also? More importantly, if Inari's parents could hide such an atrocious crime from a daughter they _lived_ with…Was it possible she didn't know Aria at all?

It made it worse, somehow. Night Raid not only stole Inari's house and family, but her _life._ All those years spent with Aria and Danven and Helena were essentially…lies…Inari couldn't even find solace in her memories of those she loved. It was cruel, and… _devastating…_ Everything, _everything,_

 _Gone._

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed! Please review! ^.^

The plot will thicken soon...

PS: I'm changing the chapter names to fit the anime's (manga too?) theme of the word "kill" in each episode title.


	13. Kill the Cloud Over Your Eyes

**Chapter Thirteen**

 **Kill the Cloud Over Your Eyes**

* * *

The weather was a perfect combination of yellow sun and fresh wind. Inari and Mine walked along the marketplace stretches well into the afternoon, visiting kiosks and stores and maintaining a steady amount of energy throughout the day. Perfumes of sweet flowers and sugary bakeries mingled in the air. The two would pass by a shop full of spices and inhale a breath of savory flavors, followed by the salty musk of fish or sprightly shock of fresh greens. Blacksmith and hammer-mill song clamored in the distance, carriages rattled, costumers roved, and bargained, and by all appearances everything was fine.

But as Inari gradually allowed Mine's constant chatter to fall into white noise, she began paying more acute attention to what lay underneath the seemingly jovial Capital. Branching ally-ways languished between building shadows, hiding diseased cripples and homeless vermin. The commoners all seemed to have a collective twitch in their necks, always glancing over their shoulders. On occasion Inari would turn her winds to further study her fellow shoppers, and everyone seemed…tense…their muscles stiff and eyes terribly dry.

Shifting one of her boxes to the other arm, Inari's attention drifted to a small figure sitting in the shade of a breakfast café. From the shape and cut of his rags, he seemed to be a young boy. Her winds had nearly skipped over him entirely, he was so unnoticeable, wallowing on the concrete. His shoulders shook as the boy bent over and coughed; his bones nearly poked out of his skin.

"Um, hello?" Mine tore Inari back to the present. "Are you even listening? What are you—oh," she paused. More out of habit than anything else, Inari used Wind Rider to examine Mine's posture. The girl (who was even shorter than Inari, an achievement in of itself,) had stiffened, her prim composure like a block of ice. Mine's wide eyes had narrowed and her two long pigtails swayed lightly in the breeze. Inari wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. "Come on, let's keep moving," she said indifferently, taking hold of Inari's arm and pulling forward.

A foreign pang settled in Inari's chest as she walked past the boy. She couldn't quite identify what it was.

"How long has it been since you've visited the Capital?" Mine asked dismissively.

"Not long at all," Inari murmured, absently pulling at the sides of her hood. She was very uncomfortable, her face cast in the shadow of her cloak, her side feeling horribly naked without Jock walking beside her. Mine insisted the lion stay home, and Inari agreed with the practicality of it. It would be best if she wasn't recognized. "I just…never really paid attention," she drew back the wind's fingers to settle only on her closest surroundings, not wanting to see anymore guilt-inducing sights.

"Hm," Mine stuck her chin in the air. The girl seemed to have gotten over the starving child quite easily. "I like that hair pin. Where'd you buy it?"

Inari's free hand absently rose to touch the pin woven into her hair. She pushed it back under the cover of the hood of her cloak. "It was a friends, actually."

Mine made a sound of approval. "The Casne girl's? I'd want to tie my hair back too, if I were her."

"Excuse me?" Inari couldn't help the hostility in her voice.

"Don't make me say it again—what? Oh, I see," Mine smirked, "Tatsumi didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Inari clung tighter to her parcels of clothing.

Mine opened her mouth, but paused. Her eyes looked Inari over. "It's not my place to say…"

"Is that going to stop you?" Inari asked, the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice. From the few hours she had spent with the girl, Inari had gathered a basic understanding of Mine's character. Catty, superior, the girl was an outspoken princess in very expensive clothing. Most likely from some elitist background. It was a wonder why Mine ever joined Night Raid.

Mine laughed. "No, I guess not," she said thoughtfully. "It is Tatsumi, after all." She sighed. "Fine. But I want something to drink first, and you need to promise you'll listen. I don't need you storming off to god knows where. Najenda would kill me, and then I'd kill you. Got it?"

Inari clenched her teeth. The thought of being ordered around…"Fine."

Mine led her to a nearby bakery whose room was scattered with places to sit. The moment Inari walked through the door, a wave of sweet perfumes licked her nose: sugary spices, cinnamon, roasted hazelnut. Tea-cups clinked on their saucers and costumers chatted away, nibbling on biscuits or fruit or fresh pastries. Mine chose a table at the back and put in her order. Inari felt in her pocket for loose change, sinking when she only found a few coins left. She had never been at a lack of funds before...She wasn't even sure if she could afford to eat at such a cute place. The reality of her poverty struck Inari's stomach like a breath-stealing blow. Not wanting to look poor, however, Inari ordered a cup of orange juice and single slice of brownie.

Once they were seated and chewing away at their deserts, Mine began the tale. "As you know, Tatsumi joined us last week." She spoke casually, but quietly, so no one else could hear. "I don't know too much, because I honestly couldn't care less about him, but he wasn't alone in the beginning. He came from some village or other, with two other people. A boy and a girl. They were separated and were supposed to meet up at the Capital. We found him at the Casne residence. Aria must have seen him sleeping outside and invited him over-that's what they did, you know. From what I've heard, your "initiation" and his were actually very similar. We attacked the estate, and caught him trying to escape with Aria. The stupid boy tried to protect her, and then Leone showed him... _the shed_. I don't know what kind of person she was to you, Inari, and quite honestly, I don't care. Because they were rotten people. Villainous, evil. Bodies hung from the ceiling, Mrs. Casne used her prisoners to test different poisons, medicines, and injectable diseases...it _smelled_ horrible, too.

"Well, Tatsumi found his two companions, alright. The boy had succumbed to one of Mrs. Casne's experiments. The girl was tortured to death, by Aria, all because," Mine paused to sip her tea, "Aria was jealous of the girl's hair."

Inari instinctively touched her hair pin. For a moment, her mind flooded with memories. Chatting with Aria as the girl stared in the mirror for hours, or brushed her hair; Aria constantly obsessing over Inari's own tresses; but it was absurd. Yes, Aria was conceited, but it simply couldn't be true!

"I knew her," Inari shook her head. "She wasn't evil." Maybe she was too tired from the day's shopping, but Inari found it difficult to be angry. Her body felt cold, like an icy numbness slowly frosted her bones.

"You _thought_ you knew her," Mine corrected. "Don't give me that look-everyone has secrets. Your friend's was just of a particularly wretched variety."

She couldn't accept it. The mere idea was unfathomable. "No," Inari said firmly, but Mine cut her off.

"What about your parents, then? They probably tucked you into bed at night, right? Bought you presents, read you stories. But you were there," Mine took a bite out of her mint cookie with a satisfying crunch. "You can't deny what you saw."

"I didn't see anything," Inari said weakly, but they both knew it was a lie. Clenching her fists, Inari bent her head. "I can't...I can't believe...that they would hurt anyone…"

Mine stared at her a moment, then pushed back her chair, forcing the legs to screech against the floor. "Come, I want to show you something." Not taking no for an answer, Mine gathered up her leftovers. Inari moved to take out her share of the bill, but Mine waved her off. "I'll take care of it."

That solved _one_ of Inari's problems.

Remaining evasive of Inari's questions, or just flat out ignoring them, Mine led them out of the bakery and through the shallow streets, until the buildings fell in size, the roads grew dusty and uneven, and a foul odor tinted the air.

A lacey parasol shielded Mine from the scorches of the late-afternoon sun, but Inari, who had to be, for the first time in her life, stingy with her spending, walked on unprotected. Her scalp burned, her eyes blinked continuously, watering and stinging from the light, and all Inari wanted to do was turn back and sit in Café Lefron, where they would meet with Seiger and Lubbock to return to the base together.

"In here," Mine said stiffly, stopping short of an alleyway. The wind picked up her pigtails in a lazy breeze, rustling the frills of her skirt. Inari looked down the scrawny alley uncertainly—it ran for a very long stretch, hugged between two buildings, and was absolutely littered with—

Inari's lip curled, revolted.

"The smell only gets worse," Mine said with a nasally voice.

She didn't know why she did it—Inari could just have easily scoured the alley with Wind Rider, collecting all she needed without so much as a footstep forward. But something coaxed her. Some invisible force enticed her feet to move independently. Inari slipped into the alleyway, her blank vision immediately darkening with the shade that seemed to float dryly in the air like hung laundry. As she moved forward, Inari dipped into the air currents, examining the scattered litter of flesh and bones.

She walked past people who were slumped against the wall, their faces fixed on her clean, new clothing. But even without Wind Rider, Inari wouldn't have feared them. The people were thin, weak and ragged. Their breaths were heavy or hollow or hardly coming, their limbs motionless or trembling; suffering impending death by either lethargy or twitching fever. They were alive, but smelled of rot, sweat, and dry excrement.

Inari continued to walk farther in, though the horror never lightened. One man sunk his teeth into a squirming rat. She could hear the animal's wails and the squish of it's entrails as the man chewed. A woman tapped a fervent rhythm on the wall, rambling incoherently. But Inari's feet kept moving. They reached out for her, pawing her skirts, but she effortlessly slipped from their weak holds.

She didn't know what she was looking for until she found it: a man smoking a simple pipe. His fingers clutched the wood desperately. His wore a haunted smile, and not much else.

"What is that?" She asked him.

He flinched, then glared at her, pressing himself into the wall. "I's mine, tha's what," he spat.

"I know, but what is it?" She persisted.

He took a wheezy breath, another drag from the pipe, and his shoulders slackened. "I's good," he laughed, his head falling back. "Ver' good."

She tried asking again, but the man was gone, completely enthralled in his drug's magic. The smoke wafted with the sickly sweet flavor of rotten citrus and shoe polish. Feeling a numbness slowly sinking into her bones, Inari covered her mouth and stepped back.

"It's called Ambrosia," a gruff voice poked her ears, "or Ride, dependin' on who you're talkin' to." Inari turned—a man with a thin frame and soft fuzz of stubble dotting his chin had come from further within the alley. His oily hair fell loose by his neck in thick, sodden curls, and his tunic and trousers, though soiled and limp, were of better quality and quantity than any one elses' in the alley. Inari detected a small collection of coins jingling in his pocket. He stared at Inari, favoring his right foot as evident from his tilted stance. "You an officer?" He asked sharply, without the slightest hint of kindness.

She shook her head. "No, no—I'm just—"

"Get that shit out of your mouth," the man growled, stepping around her and slapping the pipe from the elder's hand. The old man whined desperately, held back by the younger. "Leave if you know wha's good for ya," he looked back at her.

Inari wasn't threatened in the slightest. Not physically, anyways, and being ordered around by some homeless rat only strengthened her resolve. "What can you tell me about it? About Ambrosia?" She drew out the few coins left in her purse and displayed them indifferently, silently thanking Mine for paying the bakery bill.

The younger man was silent a moment, sucking on his teeth in thought. He stared at her hand, most likely eyeing the money greedily. Inari figured he would be desperate. Finally, "it's a drug."

"Obviously. Where does it come from?"

"No one knows," he shook his head. "It's not like I buy it, and I've heard tha' the dealers don't say anything." The older man, who had gone limp, made a sudden burst for the pipe. The younger lad pounced on the instrument first, snatching it from the ground and stuffing it behind a loose fold in his vest. Moaning, the old man slumped against the ground. Inari did her best to ignore all of it. "There'r rumors, though," he added.

She clenched her jaw. "Rumors?"

"The one's who got it worst," he explained, "swear that they were abducted by angels and given their food—Ambrosia—an' then put back on Earth."

"Is there a cure? To the addictions?"

"Hell if I know," he shrugged. "But if you're thinkin' of getting hooked on it, I'd tell you to turn around and think again. The stuff is vile. 'Makes you useless and ok to do anything for more. It'll ruin you."

Inari forced her breath to remain steady. "You said some people call it…Ride?" The man grunted in affirmation. She clenched her jaw. "And no one knows a cure?" She whispered.

She felt some of the man's tension lighten. "Not that I know of," he said more softly.

Her mind raced. Based on the machines and tools that were in the cellar, her parents had to have been making the drugs themselves. There was no way they wouldn't have had some sort of treatment in case they accidentally became contaminated during production. No way…There must be something, anything—if Inari could find it, maybe she could…undo…some of her parent's damage…Repair the Ryder name, at least for her.

"Ok, thank you," she cleared her throat. She turned to leave.

"Hey, forgetting something?" He took a step forward.

"Oh, right—" she held out her hand with the coins. He took them, his grimy fingers scooping them from her palms. "Um, what's your name?"

He paused. "Tepp. Yours?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but different words came out as a soft whisper. "…I don't know."

Not anymore.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I guess I should warn you that the plot, while staying more or less on the main track of the anime, will be changing somewhat. It's funny, because I didn't even plan for this sub-plot specifically, but it just sort of started playing itself out. The main goal is still the same: kill Honest, build a new Empire, but Inari has some priorities of her own she'll have to sort out along the way ^.^

It'll be a lot of character development until chapter...nineteen or twenty, when Zanku the Beheader shows up. Also, remember that Mine and Tatsumi haven't had their bonding moment yet during Iokul's assassination (which will happen "off-screen" in this fic), which is why she's still being very cold to him.

I'd also love to hear how you visualize Inari and Seiger (who **will** start getting more important...). Since Inari's blind, I'm leaving that up to your imaginations ^.^


	14. Kill the Tension

**Chapter Fourteen**

 **Kill the Tension**

* * *

Night was near fallen by the time they returned to the base. The savory scent of cooking dinner washed the building's air, and Inari took her limited spare time to unpack her new possessions. Jock sat under the window, licking his paws, and she unwrapped each paper parcel. The fabrics were rougher than what she was used to, and as Inari folded her clothing and tucked them away in the drawers, the reality of her situation became ever more clear. Her closets back at the Ryder estate were filled with silk and cashmere and never a patch of cotton in sight. Her linens were like a bed of air, her furniture was carved and polished and grand.

But she had forgotten to buy a hairbrush. Inari was forced to comb with her fingers and hope that was enough.

Shadows leaked in from the window, and the night felt very solemn. Hugging her sides, Inari deactivated Wind Rider. She tried to pretend she was back home, and her parents were only down stairs. Completely disassociated from her surroundings, Inari nearly convinced herself that the smoky scents in the air belonged to the chef's chicken, the romps shaking nearby rooms were just the guards changing shifts. She tried so hard. She imagined her home.

But then she activated Wind Rider.

Sighing, Inari massaged her temples. Her life had turned tragic. But then the angel on her shoulder whispered Tepp's name, and Inari realized that at least her cloths were clean. At least she had a bed, no matter how small. At least she wasn't dining on raw rat. Guilt pricked her stomach. She wanted to feel sorry for herself, to mourn her losses and blame the world, but that small voice of reason reminded her that things could be worse. She wanted to yank that voice and toss it in the fire.

To make matters worse, she hadn't had a single moment along with Seiger. When she and Mine finally met up with him and Lubbok, the four walked the long trek back to the base together. Lubbok offered his bookstore to crash for the night (apparently its basement was a secondary base location, for when Night Raid needed easier access to the capital,) but Seiger insisted he was fine. Inari was growing increasingly worried—whether it was _for_ him, or _about_ him, however, she wasn't sure. She needed Seiger to be her ally, but as of yet, neither knew of the other's true intentions. Was he also plotting to avenge Inari's parents? Or did he really consider himself apart of their team? Even considering that possibility made her furious. The responsibility of mourning Helena and Danven was as much his as it was Inari's. Yet…He stopped wearing the crest…

The other weight on her mind: searching the Ryder Estate cellar before it was too late. Inari didn't know if she was prepared to clean up her parents' crime or not, but she if she wanted to find some sort of cure for "Ambrosia addiction," she would have to act quickly. The drug den was hidden enough, but she simply couldn't risk it being discovered and emptied until she found what she was looking for. It had been two days already. If Aria's house was anything to judge by, the Empire would have the Ryder Estate emptied within the week.

"DINNER IS READY!" Leone's voice bellowed through the halls. Sighing, Inari took a moment to gather herself. She called for Jock, and together they left the bedroom. She would have to eat with the others. She wanted them, needed them, to trust her.

At the table, plates of steaming meat and sautéed vegetables called to her stomach. Tossing Jock a turkey leg, Inari piled her serving full of healthy salads, hungry after a day of shopping. One by one the entire team took a seat, until everyone was bumping elbows. Only Najenda was absent.

"We need a bigger table," Lubbok said through a mouth full of food.

"Tatsumi can just sit on the floor," Mine suggested.

"I'm not sitting on the floor, Mine," Tatsumi refused, a slight exasperation to his tone.

"Someone just build a new one," Akame muttered, uninterested.

"Anyone know how?" Leone asked.

"I can try," Sheele offered.

"The last time you built something," Lubbok waved his fork at her, "I ended up with a nail in my butt."

"Oh, that's right," Sheele remembered dreamily.

"It was your fault for sitting down," Mine said.

"My fault for sitting down!?" Lubbok stuffed a chunk of broccoli in his mouth. "It was a chair!"

"Yea, but a chair _Sheele_ built," Leone tsked. "You should know better."

"But don't feel bad Sheele," Bulat pat her shoulder.

"Feel bad about what?" She asked.

"Never mind," Bulat chuckled.

"I still don't see the problem with Tatsumi siting on the floor," Mine reached out for a second serving of potatoes. Inari would have been surprised that someone with such a small frame could still be hungry, but Akame was even more terrifying. The cat-like woman had already cleaned five plates, and there was no end in sight.

"That reminds me," Leone said before Tatsumi could reply. "Seiger, Inari—we need to talk chores."

"Chores?" Seiger asked, curious.

"Yea, we've all got some job to do," Bulat said. "Mine does the laundry, Akame and Tatsumi cook the meals—"

"Hey, we do a lot more than cook," Tatsumi defended. "We hunt, too."

"You mean _Akame_ hunts," Mine corrected cattily.

"Why are you like this?" Tatsumi wasn't even angry. "You know as well as anyone that I do my fair share."

"How many fish did you catch last week again?" Mine asked, though she clearly knew the answer.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What was that? I didn't hear you," Mine leaned forward.

"Shut up," Tatsumi grumbled.

"Hm?" she prompted.

"One! Ok, I caught one!" Tatsumi threw his hands in the air, "you happy?"

"Hey, we were all very proud of Tatsumi and his one fish," Sheele defended him, but her words only seemed to squander any remained pride the boy had left.

"You don't have to word it like that," he mumbled bitterly. Leone, Lubbok and Bulat laughed. Even Inari smirked, after Seiger nudged her side.

"I'm sorry, we were talking about chores?" Inari tried to regain any sense of order the conversation had left. She wasn't particularly thrilled at the idea of doing manual labor, but…if she _had_ too… _Ugh._ Swallowing a grimace, Inari put a hand on her stomach. Salad, apparently, wasn't satisfying her hunger. She reached forward—Wind Rider had been activated from the very start of the meal—and piled a juice cut of meat onto her plate.

"Oh, right," Leone sniffed. "Well, you two have to contribute _something,_ right?"

"Is killing people not enough for you?" Inari tried to mask the hostility with indifference. She poked at her steak uncertainly, trying to ignore the squish of her fork against its juices. Her comment was met with laughter.

"Well, I'm a— _was,_ a doctor in training," Seiger offered. Inari stifled a gasp. That was right, Seiger wouldn't be able to continue his studies. His presence would raise too many questions. What a shame—he was doing so well, too. And he also enjoyed it. "But I was close to graduating anyways. I can act as your resident medic."

"What a good idea!" Mine said. She seemed to agree a lot with whatever Seiger said. Inari didn't approve.

"That would actually be pretty helpful," Lubbok scratched his nose.

"Fine," Akame voiced her opinion.

"Alright, that's settled," Leone clapped her hands. "He's good looking, too—I wouldn't mind being treated by him."

"Seconded," Bulat agreed.

Before Inari could pounce, Mine beat her to it. "Back off," she sniffed haughtily. "It's not like you ever need medical assistance anyways, lion girl. And Bulat, he doesn't lean that way."

"How do you know?" Lubbok asked. "Did you ask him?"

Mine stuttered. She looked at Seiger. "Well? Are you?"

"What?" Seiger acted as if he missed something. Inari, too, was confused.

"Gay," Tatsumi clarified.

 _Oh._

"Oh—Bulat is gay," Sheele suddenly spoke up. As if having just woken from a day-dream, Sheele seemed to take in her surroundings. She turned her head to and fro, the thin-frame glasses fallen at the very tip of her nose. Sheele slid them back up.

"Yes, Sheele, nice of you to join us in the conversation," Lubbok smirked.

"I wasn't paying attention," Sheele dropped her head. "My apologies."

"Yes, we know, Sheele," Leone reached over Tatsumi to pat Sheele's head. "But we love you all the same."

"Ack—hey!" Tatsumi yelped, his head about the height of Leone's (rather voluminous) chest. "Leone! Watch it!"

"Um, excuse me," Mine snapped, "can we please get back to what's important here?"

"What, whether you have a chance with Seiger?" Inari arched an eyebrow at the girl.

" _No,"_ Mine insisted. "But, well, it's just that—"

"Are you gay, Seiger?" Akame's cold voice cut through the table.

"Hey now," Bulat stammered, "you can't just ask a man that, ok?"

Before Inari could agree, Seiger let out a heart-felt laugh. Shocked, she turned, focusing Wind Rider on his movements. Bouncing shoulders, hand over forehead and head thrown back; Seiger was overcome with amusement. The scene caught her by surprise—when was the last time Inari saw him laugh like that?

"No, no, I don't think I am," Seiger wiped a tear—an actual tear—from his eye. "Not completely, anyway. But I will say, I've never seen anyone as handsome as Bulat before."

"Oh, come on, I'm right here," Lubbok said, though he was grinning.

"Those muscles, the shine in his eyes," Seiger's emphasized the whimsy in his voice, "the _hair—_ "

"Bulat's hair looks like a corn cob," Leone interrupted.

"Hey! Apologize to the man," Lubbok slammed his palm on the table. "If anything, it's a baguette." Everyone laughed. Even Inari. She couldn't help herself, they were all so… _barbaric…_ But in a good way, odd enough.

"Oh, come on guys," Bulat said sheepishly.

"Well, I'm a man who can appreciate a good pastry," Seiger laughed.

"Not too much, I hope," Mine smirked.

Completely focused on the fun at the table, Inari absently cut off her first piece of meat and popped it into her mouth.

The illusion shattered.

The steak squished under her teeth, squirting savory juices onto her tongue. The cut was medium rare, slimy, _wet_ —Inari had never had a problem with meat before, but the sensations called up memory of the rat in the alley-way, the old man's rotten teeth piercing it's skin and sinking into it's raw flesh; the Danger Beast worm and its convulsing body, Seiger's brains dripping from his ears, Helena's bloody corpse—

Sitting stock still, Inari suffered a moment of panic. Should she spit it out? No—that was disgusting—but could she swallow it? Attempting to push the chunk of meat towards her throat, Inari gagged.

"Are you ok?" Tatsumi asked.

No, no no no no—Inari lunged from the table, sending her chair colliding into Sheele, and raced from the table. Jock growled and bound after her, his paws slapping against the hardwood. She dashed from the dining room, through the house, out the back door. Crisp air gnawed her skin as Inari ran as far as she could, until her stomach flashed. Bile rose up her throat and Inari bent over, vomiting.

Soft fingers brushed against her neck, and for a moment Inari thought someone had finally come to kill her. Instead, the person pulled Inari's hair back. Mortally embarrassed, Inari had no choice but to let her stomach spill. She was too preoccupied to use Wind Rider and determine who it was behind her. The person remain silent as Inari's heaving gradually calmed.

Wiping her mouth, Inari took steadying breaths.

"Are you done?" Akame asked.

Momentarily shocked to hear the woman's voice, Inari activated Wind Rider. Indeed, Akame stood behind her, her long hair lifting in the wind's whispers, eye muscles loose and expression empty. Slowly, Inari nodded, and Akame released the hair to cascade past Inari's shoulders. Huffing, Jock pushed his wet nose into Inari's shoulder.

"I thought you were Seiger," Inari whispered, more out of realization than anything else. She had _wanted_ it to be Seiger.

"He tried to run after you," Akame said in a mono-tone, "but I didn't let him." Her words were cold, sending chills down Inari's spine. Akame continued standing there, towering over her, and Inari suddenly felt very awkward. Was the woman _trying_ to be weird, staying at Inari's back with limp arms?

Uncomfortable, Inari shifted so that Akame at least faced her side. "Why not?"

"His injury will never heal," was her short answer.

"Oh, ok," Inari nodded passively. She was still recovering, the skin around her lips stinging and water glossing her eyes. The pungent odor of Inari's discards hung in the air like a damp ghost, heavy and warm. But the night was cool on her back, soothing her sweaty forehead with refreshing fingers. Cricket song enveloped the air, the stars of nature's orchestra.

"I'm sorry," Inari whispered absently.

"For what?"

That was a good question—the apology had slipped from Inari's lips unintentionally. But she was. Somehow, for whatever reason, Inari was sorry. All her guilt, remorse, sorrow and anger had been washed away, leaving in it's wake an empty…acceptance, maybe, if only for the moment.

Shaking her head, Inari stood. "You didn't have to come out here."

"You are my team member," Akame said simply. She put her hand on Inari's shoulder. "My comrade. You ate at our table." Akame shifted her feet, and in that moment Inari realized how… _awkward_ the woman was. From afar, Akame was a terrifying, cold-blooded demon, but perhaps Inari had misinterpreted the woman's guarded demeanor. As if to substantiate Inari's thoughts, Akame awkwardly pat Inari's head. "There, there."

The sentiment was so unbelievably odd, Inari burst out in laughter.

Akame stilled, her hand stiff on Inari's head. "What?"

Inari shook her head, the absurdity of the situation overwhelming. " _What are you doing_?" She managed.

Akame faltered. "I'm…comforting you."

In that moment, Inari wasn't with a killer. Remembering Sheele's kindness with the lemonade, Bulat's concern after pushing Inari over, Mine paying the tab at the bakery, Inari felt a wave of… _something._ Night Raid was a band of assassins, but they truly seemed to… _care,_ in their own ways. Lubbok had come hurtling from the sky to stop Inari from fighting anyone. Despite all the grief he got, Tatsumi seemed so genuine and down to earth. Leone was rowdy and obnoxious, but she treated Inari like…a friend. Najenda wouldn't have killed them if Inari and Seiger refused Night Raid's invitation. They were all so young, and passionate—they believed in their hearts that they were doing the right thing.

And they were honest. They acknowledged their sins.

For the first time, Inari's resolve wavered. _Should_ she report them to Honest? If what Night raid claimed was true—that the Capital was overrun with corruption, that Prime Minister Honest was the worst of them all—what was the right call? Inari thought of Tepp, the man eating the rat, and the ragged boy dying in the shade. They really _did_ have it worse than her, and no one was going to help them. Inari's parents had committed an unforgivable crime. There was no denying that that man in the alley was smoking their drugs. "Ride," "Ambrosia"; Night raid was right about her parents. What if they really were right about the Casnes, too? And the entire Capital, for that matter?

She needed more proof. Every empire had it's share of poverty and corruption. And Inari didn't think she could ever forgive Night Raid for her parents. Helena and Danven were despicable, but…still…she loved them. No, Night Raid would never be her family. Night Raid _killed_ her family, and that was a scar that could never heal.

But there were bigger issues, now, than Inari's feelings. The Ryder family had a history of dedication and heroism towards the Empire. She would revive the Ryder name, and serve a cause worthy of it. For the time being, Inari would lay low, until she can properly determine the right place to be. She can hate Night Raid in her heart, but if they were fighting on the true side of justice, than Inari would stand along side them.

It was incredibly painful, though, because the Helena and Danven Inari knew would be proud of her. But the _real_ Helena and Danven…

She was alone. But for the first time in a long long while, Inari felt in control. And that was worth it, to some extant.

"Thank you," she told Akame genuinely.

The woman nodded her head. She inhaled, held her breath, a gap between her lips, but no words came out. Inari was about to prompt her, for it seemed that Akame either struggled for words or had them and was reluctant to speak, but Lubbok's voice called out from the shadows.

"AKAME! INARI!"

The sudden burst of noise startled Jock, who stared off in the direction of the base and growled. Akame whirled around, and Inari detected Lubbok's form running towards them. Night Raid's house was only maybe fifty yards back—Inari hadn't made it very far at all.

"Najenda's calling a team meeting," Lubbok called. He stopped running, still several feet away from them, and grinned wickedly. "We've got a job."


	15. Kill the Wall Around Your Heart

**Chapter Fifteen**

 **Kill the Wall Around Your Heart**

* * *

"Our target tonight is Iokul," Najenda held out a sheet of paper. Inari assumed it was an image of Night Raid's upcoming victim. The entire team was present, crowded around their leader's chair in assorted levels of attention. Some stood with their arms crossed, others leaned against the wall, but all faced Najenda, listening intently. "He's a blood relative of Prime Minister Honest," she continued with a wry voice. The metal fingers of her prosthetic arm clenched with a sharp crunch. The mechanics were very distracting—Inari could help but dip into the currents and feel the air interacting with every movement of Najenda's body. Her arm was a beautifully constructed weapon, metal to the bone and wired with intricate technologies. The woman wore a long jacket draped over her shoulders and lounged in her chair like it were a throne. She smelled of pine and like the wet metals in a blacksmith's fire, and spoke with a masculine, proud voice.

"Besides for being a close ally of Honest," Najenda rest her metallic arm on her knee and leaned forward, "he's a wretched villain responsible for many women's deaths. He rapes innocent citizens, then whips them to death, and uses his connection with the Empire to remain above the law."

Inari shifted her feet uncomfortably. She knew Iokul's name, and felt her resolution waver. Night Raid would be assassinating him tonight. Inari had made the decision to go along with their antics if it truly meant eradicating the monsters who were poisoning the Empire. However, she never expected a blood relative of Honest to be her first mission. Inari wasn't so sure she could do it…what if she eventually found enough claim to persuade herself onto the Empire's side? If, one day, new information comes to light and the right thing to do is turn Night Raid in, how could she face the Prime Minister? She would be a criminal who assassinated his own blood.

Perhaps she could get out of it. While everyone else prepared, she could slip away…but…

She had two choices: betray Night Raid before they could get Iokul, or let him die. It was too early to do the former, but she _really_ didn't want to do the latter.

…Was it true, though? Did Iokul really…rape…women, and kill them? The mere thought of such a crime sent a rage in her heart. It made her fist clench involuntarily and ache for impact. Her personal situation aside, that crime deserved punishment. It did, she acknowledged that. And Inari realized that were it any other man, were it some peasant or lowly citizen, she would have no conflict in wishing him death. The realization shocked her. Iokul was royalty, but…but that…didn't give him the right…

Najenda continued talking, sharing the night's strategy. "Iokul has five personal guards who also partake in his… _activities._ We'll dispatch them, too, but no one else, unless directly threatened."

Inari couldn't focus. She didn't want to kill Iokul. But he was evil. But he was royalty. She would be rewarded if she saved him. But she couldn't betray Night Raid until she was absolutely certain their cause was false. But then she had no choice than to let him die. But…

She really didn't want to involve herself in something of this magnitude…Not when she was so conflicted.

Najenda, Akame, and Bulat were deep in conversation, debating tactics and designing their attack strategy. The others were listening, occasionally offering their input. Inari's pulse pounded and she finally gathered the nerve to speak up.

"Um, can I saw something?"

Everyone stopped, turning to her. Najenda hummed questioningly.

She would have to be tactful about this. Fortunate for her, Inari actually had a solid excuse. "I don't know if this is the right time to say this, but we're all here. I've been thinking. Ambrosia, the drug my parent's manufactured and," Inari cleared her throat and bobbed her head—she didn't want to say it out loud. "Well, it's incredibly addictive, from what I've heard. And I don't think my parents would submit themselves when there was such a big risk involved. There has to be some sort of…medication, or, or _cure,_ or _something,_ but I—we have to find it before the Emperor has our estate cleared. So, now or never, basically."

"Your parents didn't expose themselves to the threat," Najenda spoke wryly, one corner of her lips curling upward. "The guards did the manufacturing. That's why we killed them all." Inari stiffened. She hadn't even considered that possibility. She opened her mouth, probably to defend her guards, but Najenda continued, leaning back and stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Still, you might be on to something. Alright, you can go tonight, but you won't get paid." Inari wasn't exactly thrilled to hear that, considering her funds were non-existent, but she would have to take what she could get. "Sheele, you'll go with her. "

Sheele nodded. "Very well."

"Don't get caught, alright?" Najenda sighed. "Leave the lion here. If they've already started emptying the estate, abort. As of now, Inari, you're considered a missing person. We want to keep it that way…"

Inari wasn't exactly sure what motives lay behind those words, but she could think on them later. She had gotten out of Iokul's assassination, and was given permission to return home, if only for a day. Two birds with one stone.

* * *

The devil screamed into the night, whipping through the trees and air in a malevolent howl. Inari and Sheele hunkered amidst the forest, two ghosts crawling towards their target. There was an ominous sense of foreboding between the two, despite no intention for spilling blood. Wind churned the leaves and made them cry, and their hopes of Inari using Wind Rider to scour the estate were quickly diminished.

Regardless, she tried. Concentrating on the black sight before her, Inari dipped her consciousness into the air, but the currents were too chaotic, like frothing white water. She could manage a decent awareness of her immediate surroundings, but any farther and the shadowed shapes of the world blurred and whirled in the chaos.

She shook her head, and the two went for plan B. It took a few minutes to find the egg-shaped hollow tree, but Sheele and Inari were soon inside the secret passage and their mission was back on track. The wind cut off. Together, they raced down the hall, Sheele's footsteps nearly silent. Inari, on the other hand, splashed in the shallow puddles and sent echoes dancing off the walls.

Finally, they reached the end. Inari pushed on the wall. It slid inward with a sound of stone against stone, opening a crack. Using Wind Rider, Inari checked to see if the coast was clear. Determining it safe, she swung the wall open and stepped into the Ryder study room. The secret door fell back into place, an innocent bookcase to unknowing eyes. All was quiet.

Tip-toeing to the front of the room, Inari scoured the air. The room was intact. Luscious rugs carpeted the floors, books sat in their places undisturbed, and a small smoking pipe lay on a coffee table, awaiting Danven to lite it and suck on sweet fruits and spices. Jasmine and Coffee perfumes lingered, ghosts of the lives that once were. The rocking chair where Helena crocheted stood still against the wall.

Inari hadn't realized how traumatic it would be, returning to her home. When before she wanted nothing more than sleep in her sheets and spend hours on end smelling the gardens, savoring her memories, now she wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"There are three guards," Inari whispered, though none were within earshot. "One is standing by the front door," she narrowed her eyes, consciousness racing from room to room beside the air, "one is walking around the perimeter, and one is inside on the ground level…" Inari sucked in her breath, hissing, and dropped her head on the door, pressing her skin against the indents of the cold wood. "Dammit. He's in the kitchen."

"What does that mean?" Sheele looked away from the collection of books. She was one of the few Night Raid members who wasn't with Inari on that night.

"It means we can't get to the cellar. Not if we don't want to cause a commotion."

"Then we'll look somewhere else first," Sheele stuck her finger in the air.

"I suppose we can try the master bedroom," Inari thought. "But if he doesn't leave—"

"We'll get there when we get there," Sheele smiled, straightening her glasses.

Inari frowned, but she figured that would do, for now. The two of them could search everywhere else first, and if the guard was still in the kitchen…They would forge a plan. Perhaps, they could cause a diversion and lure him away.

Quietly, Inari led the way to the master bedroom. She showed Sheele where to step and which floorboards to avoid, and warned about the carpet in the second-floor hallway that had a nasty habit of slipping on the wood. They made it without incident.

The door creaked open, and a wash of nostalgia curled over her. Forcing a neutral expression, Inari stepped into the darkened room. The draft from the open window hurled the curtains like billowing waves, and intermittent streaks of lightning struck the shadows. Stepping towards the king bed, Inari remembered her countless childhood frights, when she would seek her mother's warm comfort when the storms roared. Sheele went to work, shuffling through Helena's vanity, and Inari went to close the window. With the winds disturbing the air, dipping into the currents was like swimming in a whirlpool.

Something soft flew into Inari's face. Gasping in surprise, Inari wrestled with the fluid fabric, then slapped her hands over her mouth after realizing her mistake. One of her mother's scarves must have been blown loose and she had been unfortunate enough to catch it—standing stock still, Inari listened intently, praying her outburst wasn't heard outside the room.

Thankfully, it wasn't, or else the guard dismissed it for some mundane noise. Inari shut the window, sat on the edge of the bed, and began ruffling through Danven's night table. Pipes, candle sticks, ink bottles, loose change and folded slips of paper; Inari tucked the coins and papers into the sack she had brought with her. Unable to read anything, she would have to wait for someone else to look over the writings. Sheele moved to the closets and Inari crawled across the bed for Helena's night table. There was a ring and hand mirror inside, both cold to the touch—of fine metal—and grooved with intricate engravings. Inari took them. She would sell the mirror, at least—she had no use for it.

Soon, they had the entire room scoured and returned to order. The guard had left the kitchen, but he was wandering the second floor. They were on the third level, but Inari insisted on stopping at her room before they left, and that was one flight down. The two of them decided to stay in the master bedroom until he went back down stairs. Sheele sat criss-cross on the floor, leaning against the dresser and absently exploring Helena's jewelry box. Inari wished she could take all of the expensive treasures with her, but Night Raid wasn't known for theft and it was best to play things cautiously. Maybe she would only take a handful, not enough for anyone to notice. Helena had no use for necklaces anymore.

Lying on the bed, Inari delighted in the feel of the pristine linens. Soft and silky on her skin, the blankets and sheets and pillows enveloped her in a loving embrace, kissing her hair and folding into a cocoon beneath her. The fabrics were washed in her parents' scenes; jasmine and hard coffee.

Realizing their exchange of words had been minimal at best, Inari felt to urge to start a conversation. Hand absently lifting to her hair pin, Inari opened her mouth and let the thoughts flow.

"Sheele?" She asked quietly.

"Hm?"

"Who killed my father?"

Sheele's brow furrowed, and she stroked one of Helena's bracelets intently. Inari sighed and decided to continue. "I know what you're going to say. You all did—it was a group effort." She spoke softly, without a hint of anger in her voice. Perhaps she was just too comfortable. "I know that, but…Maybe it would be best if I didn't know…" Sighing, she gazed up at the ceiling and used Wind Rider to trace the chandelier's design. The arms reached through the length of the room, draping crystal drops to hang downward like falling stars. "You know, it's funny. When I was very little, I used to think there were giants behind the skies, living just like us, with houses and weddings, and our sky was their ocean. And once, a long time ago, one of them had a pearl necklace, and it broke, and all the pearls fell into the water and became our stars. I don't know where the idea came from, but I was very confident with it. And one day I told my dad and he laughed, and said that there aren't giants behind our sky, but nothingness. Empty space, and our stars are nothing more than balls of gas. I was shocked, and suddenly I started questioning everything. Mirrors aren't doors to other worlds—when I turn around, my reflection doesn't return to her own life. No matter how strong your umbrella is, you can't fly with it. My stuffed animals don't miss me when I leave, they don't care when they fall off my bed, they don't drink the tea I give them. I just…I found a lie, and suddenly couldn't stop looking for more."

Sighing, Inari felt the last bit of tension leave her bones. She felt peaceful, at ease in Sheele's company. "I went blind when I was seven," Inari explained. "A servant tripped on my chair and it tipped over, and I hit my head. Hard. And suddenly, everything was black. I heard my mother crying and my father shouting, and Seiger was there too, I think, stunned. I thought I lost consciousness and my eyes were closed, but…" she trailed off, taking a deep breath. The accident changed her life forever, but after the initial recovery phase, Inari was never…particularly hateful. She missed colors, and flowers, and the sky, and her face, but at the expense of the world, she discovered another. Smells and sounds suddenly became the focus of her surroundings, and it was incredible how much the senses provided. She spent several months adjusting before Honest gave her Wind Rider. Danven placed an order for Jock—he insisted on a lion, the star of the Ryder family crest. Only the best for his little daughter. She learned to live again, and, with her Imperial Arms, was arguable stronger than before. Wind Rider showed her more than eyes ever could. Still, she always felt jealous. It was agony, knowing exactly what beauty and convenience she was missing. But Inari never let the loss consume her.

"I never saw that servant boy again. My parents told me he was gone. I thought that mean fired, but…" Inari cleared her throat. "Three weeks later, my father finally agreed to take me on one of his hunting trips. He had always refused before, but I had been cooped up since the accident and some fresh air would do wonders. I always imagined his hunting trips with Mr. Casne were in the wilderness, but it was at the Kolreans's house. Family friends—you guys killed them about a month ago." Inari chuckled softly. "I wondered why my father would bring me when I'm blind, but it was pretty obvious once the hunt started. It was very safe, actually—even Aria was there. The two of us sat on a bench in the courtyard while the animals were brought out. I was told that they had been pre-caught, and would be released into the backyard and run around while Mr. Casne, Mr. Kolrean, my father and some other men took their shots. It was all very refined. I remember thinking that the animals sounded strange, and Aria explained that their tonged had been cut out and they were gagged, because the sound of a dying animal was harsh on the ears, or something. I thought that was disgusting, but I sat with Aria anyways.

"A few days ago, Seiger told me something about the Kolreans…" Inari picked at the linens. "Since I met Night Raid…Sometimes, I feel nothing but anger and…and insatiable, trembling rage. Like a plot of coal in my throat. It comes suddenly, like a flash of fury at the most random times. But other times, I feel…empty. Desensitized. And then guilt, and then confusion because I don't know which thing I'm guilt about—I'm realizing there's many. I don't know. I feel lost, and in control at the same time, and my mind keeps turning and turning. I killed my mother. I tell myself that it's ok, because she was as good as dead anyways, and a horrible person, but she took care of me when I was sick, kissed my fingers and braided my hair and…and _raised_ me. I feel horrible that I killed her, and then even more horrible because…I shouldn't, and it's just this vicious cycle, and I didn't want to tell anyone this because you guys think I'm some cold assassin who doesn't care that she murdered her mother, someone who can cut off my relationships without a second thought if it means eradicating the world of evil." Tears brimmed Inari's eyes. She sat up to face Sheele, who had moved to the foot of the bed. "But…Sheele…I don't think—"

Sheele threw herself on the bed and wrapped her arms around Inari's shoulders, cutting the girl off mid-sentence. Startled, Inari didn't move. Outside, the wind howled, wailing against the window. A flash of lightning lit up the room, immediately followed by a deafening crack of thunder.

"It's ok," Sheele whispered. "It's ok to feel."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ Please review if you enjoyed! ^.^ Just to clarify, the assassination mission everyone else went on is the same one in the anime (I don't read the manga, so I don't know if Iokul is in it too)-the one where Tatsumi is paired with Mine and the two share some bonding moments. :)


	16. Kill Your Instinct to Kill

**Chapter Sixteen**

 **Kill Your Instinct to Kill**

* * *

Inari was never averse to crying in public. When Danven didn't bring back presents, or was gone for too long, when Seiger said something mean and she wanted to make him feel guilty; tears often got her what she wanted. But once Inari joined Night Raid, and everything she wanted became impossible, suddenly, she could only cry alone. What was once thought of as a tool became a weakness. Since Inari woke up in those cotton sheets, Sheele was the first person to see her with tears down her cheeks. Her touch was as kind as Akame's earlier that evening, perhaps even kinder. The two stayed like that, cuddling close on the bed, until Inari calmed down. There was nothing sexual about their embrace—it was a beautiful, innocent moment of one woman comforting another.

The guard returned downstairs, and the two of them knew they had to go on. As Inari slid off the bed, her hand pressed into the mattress for balance and heard something crinkle. Confused, she scoured the bed and bound a leather journal tucked between the bedframe. Bagging it away for safe keeping, Inari left the room. She didn't say goodbye behind her.

Taking only the time to pack essentials, Inari was in and out of her former bedroom in minutes. She didn't want to linger, for only when she walked forward from her past could she begin to move on. Spare change, the precious mementoes she couldn't bear to part with—Roar the stuffed lion, a ring from her late grandfather, her personal Ryder Crest, the mask Danven bought her not six days ago, Jock's perfume—one of her warmer, more expensive cloaks, a silk pillow case, and a fistful of jewelry she hoped to sell; Inari shouldered the brown sack, which was noticeably fuller than when they arrived, and stalked to the door.

"It's a nice room," Sheele stood back.

"Purple was my favorite color," Inari said wryly, recalling an image that was probably warped with time of her bedroom.

"It's mine, too," Sheele said sweetly, cocking her head to the side and smiling. The woman's figure fell somewhere between Akame and Leone: tall, slender, but whereas Akame was a graceful cat and Leone a proud lion, Sheele was more resembling of the canine species. A bulky, stout thinness in contrast to their feline poise.

They slipped out of the room and crept down the hall. The guard was still in the kitchen—either he was incredibly inept at his duty, or currently enjoying a massive mid-night snack. Either way, it was very inconvenient.

"We'll need to distract him somehow," Inari whispered, carefully moving along the hallway, "some sort of diversion, or—"

The carpet beneath their feet suddenly slipped against the smooth floor. Sheele, unsettled, flailed for Inari's arm, throwing them both off balance and careening to the floor with a terrifying _thump._ They both lay there, mortified, not daring to move. And then-

"He's coming," Inari hissed, slapping Sheele's shoulders and rocketing to her feet. The carpet creased and slid it's edge into the wall. "We have to hide!"

"But the carpet," Sheele insisted, "he'll know someone was here."

"We don't have time," Inari tracked the guard's movements. He was nearing the staircase.

"Then we'll have to kill him," Sheele said in an uncharacteristically apathetic voice. She reached for the giant shears on her back.

"What? No—" Inari yanked her arm. "Just—we're not doing that." As quietly as she could, Inari lunged past the nearest open door, pulling Sheele with her. Inside a guest room, she half led, half dragged Sheele towards the empty wardrobe. The guard rounded the hallway corner. They threw open the armoire doors, crammed inside, closed themselves in, and held their breaths.

The guard's footsteps clanked outside. "The hell?"

Inari's heart raced. She knew, in reality, the guard was in more danger than them. Inari had enough skill to fend for her own, and Sheele was a member of the most notorious and violent assassin band in the Capital. She wasn't afraid for her life, but the notion of taking another…again…Clamping her hand tightly over her mouth, Inari tried to stay as motionless as possible. She was _not_ killing anyone tonight.

Sheele kept one hand lightly pressed against the wardrobe door and the other stretching up to her back, curled her weapon's handle. Leaning forward, she looked ready to pounce. Her facial muscles were tight, brows diving low and eyes intently narrowed. In the moment of threat, her glasses showed no want of sliding down. Inari craned her ears, trying not to let Sheele's jasmine scent distract her. Wind Rider left no picture unseen: the guard scrutinized the hall suspiciously; hand on hilt, feet shoulder-width apart. His head slowly panned from wall to wall, then down at the ruffled carpet.

"We left the door open," Inari breathed, an idea dawning.

"Did we?" Sheele whispered. "I don't remember closing it."

"No, it's definitely open," Inari's mind swam through the air currents, shifting focus from the guard to the open guest-room door. He stood several paces back. _Ok, ok, what can I do with this?_ "I have an idea," she tilted her head, "but you can't kill him."

"Don't think that I want to," Sheele whispered sadly, her disposition suddenly accusatory. It caught Inari off guard—perhaps she had misinterpreted Sheele's willingness for _enthusiasm._ "But if he comes at us, I won't hesitate. You shouldn't, either."

Inari paused. "I won't," she said finally, _but it won't come to that_.

Pressing her finger to her lips, Inari gingerly opened the wardrobe and crept low to the floor. The rug bristled against her palms as she crawled for the open door, angling herself to remain out of the guard's sight. Sheele followed. Thunder roared outside. If it weren't for the carpet, the guard would have dismissed their fumble as a sound of the approaching storm.

Positioning herself to face the same direction as the guard several paces to the right, Inari did a cursory examination of the hall and decided for the other open guest room at the opposite end. She splayed her fingers, stretching them, then bent her left wrist outward. The guard took a tentative step forward. Inari took aim, focusing Wind Rider on the air surrounding the open door.

Flicking her wrist inward, Inari yanked on the air like a taut string, pulling it towards her and into the door, slamming it shut.

The guard started, then pounded for the room. Forcing a disturbance in the natural wind currents sent ripples coursing through the air, obscuring Inari's connection to her surroundings. However, being in her old house, she knew the layout inside out and didn't need Wind Rider to guide her around. Inari and Sheele darted into the hall and shot for the staircase. Inari slid silently down the banister, Sheele stealthily took the stairs three at a time. They raced into the kitchen, scrambled into the wine cellar; Inari tossed a mask to Sheele and fit one snugly on her own head, then opened the secret door on the floor with the broken chain. Inari climbed down the latter, Sheele jumped down and landed gracefully in a crouch—if only the woman could have had that finesse while walking on the second-floor carpet.

The den was precisely as Inari remembered. Dark, humid, the air felt like it licked her skin with a heavy, dragging tongue. The mask filtered any unpleasant scents, and though no incense was being burnt Inari was hesitant to take it off.

Helena's corpse languished on the ground.

"Oh, god," Inari breathed, covering her mouth with her hands. Her heart hitched when her fingers felt cold plastic, not skin, and a distant thought reminded her of the mask. Her expression was completely hidden, cowering behind a soulless, inhuman face. If Her mother's ghost lingered, it wouldn't see any tears or stricken horror.

Helena had been left to wallow in the pit of her crimes, surrounded by the countless jars of powdered Ambrosia, the splintered chairs where victims were chained, and the machines that produced the angel's food, the hunks of welded metal that had never been near heaven. Inari deactivated Wind Rider, withdrawing any connection to the outside air and submitting herself to blessed blindness. Falling to her knees, hugging her legs close, Inari shook her head.

"No," she insisted. "No, no, nope—I'm not." Inari clawed at her hair, tugging it over her faceless mask. "I'm not I'm not I'm not—Sheele, I can't, no no no."

"Hey, hey it's ok," Sheele was at her side, touching Inari's shoulder.

"No it's not!" Inari hissed, her voice shrill. She couldn't stop herself. "I, I _killed her,_ Sheele! I killed her, right there, _right there!"_ She pointed blindly to her mother's body. Panic shook her limbs. She franticly rubbed her hands against her thighs, as if trying to wipe off her mother's blood.

A cold slap woke Inari from her hysterics. Clutching her cheek, she looked at Sheele in wonderment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sheele cupped her hands to her neck. "I just thought—I did what Akame would have done—"

"No," Inari shook her head, expelling her astonishment at Sheele's tough action. "I was panicking, you helped." She cleared her throat. "Thank you." Tentatively, Inari activated Wind Rider, pulled herself up, and approached Helena's wrangled remains. Flies buzzed, scratched at the dried blood and creeped under the decaying skin. Inari never realized how disgusting death was. Traumatizing, yes, painful and wretched, hopeful and romantic, yes, but never… _vile._ She considered covering her mother's face in the pillow-case from Inari's room, but what a waste of fine silk that would be. Helena was dead, she had no use for it.

Instead, Inari hummed. Helena used to be beautiful, but perhaps this was her true appearance. The sting of Sheele's slap still fresh on her cheek, Inari swept down and slid a ring off her mother's finger. Its surface was grainy and flat, the indents of the decorative engravings clogged with dry blood. A wedding gift from Danven, the ring was a declaration worthy of Helena's hands. It should fetch a fair price.

Feeling the need to explain her actions, Inari cleared her throat. "I'll sell it," she stood up and away from the body. "I'm accustomed to a certain standard of living, as you can imagine."

"You should keep it," Sheele mused, her voice returned to its dreamy tone. "Night Raid pays well, and you've taken other things to sell."

"I have no reason to keep it."

"It was your mothers—"

"My mother is dead," Inari forced herself to sound indifferent.

" _Helena_ is dead," Sheele corrected. "But your mother doesn't have to be." She looked around the room, a finger to her lips, her brows furrowing. "Oh, I forgot. We're looking for a cure, right?" Sheele wandered to the closest shelf and started rifling through the contents. Glass bottles clinked and dust puffed into the air.

Inari stood, dumbfounded. How could she say something so confusing and then switch topics, completely unperturbed, like that? "What are you saying?"

"Hm?" Sheele looked back over her shoulder. The glasses had slipped to the very tip of her nose.

"My mother is dead," Inari pointed to the body. "There she is, right here."

Sheele nodded. "Yes."

"But you just said she wasn't."

"What?" Sheele's eyes widened.

"You just said," Inari clenched her jaw, "that she doesn't have to be dead." She wouldn't let the woman's absurd comment ferret any hope. She wouldn't.

Sheele exhaled a soft stream of breath, ducking her head. "Do you like me, Inari?"

The question caught her off guard. "What?"

"It's ok if you don't," a warm, ghostly smile stretched along the woman's lips. "I can be…difficult, sometimes. I wouldn't blame you. Two weeks ago, Leone bought me a book titled How Not to be an Airhead. I lost it yesterday." Sheele's ditziness wasn't exactly the pressing personality trait Inari was wary off, but the woman kept talking. She was facing away, studying the shelves like they contained some sort of secret. "Before I joined Night Raid, I was even more of a nothing. I couldn't do anything right. I can't cook, or sew, or clean—I trip on my own ankle every afternoon. I can read, but my handwriting is illegible. My own eyes don't even work right. Without my glasses I may as well be blind. I was useless to my family. In a world where power means survival, I was nothing more than a burden.

"Where I lived, it was dog-eat-dog, and I was very small. But I had this one friend. She didn't care about my clumsiness, or when I did something wrong. She laughed, but her laugh was different. It didn't hurt. She…" Sheele grinned, passively turned a sealed jar over and over in her hands, "she was the most important person in my life. She was the only one who didn't call me useless, and she made everything else worth it. But…" Sheele trailed off, replacing the jar with another, "she had this boyfriend. I would see bruises on her neck and under her clothing, he was awful, you have to understand, and besides for that, he wasn't right for her. I finally convinced her to leave him—she was too afraid at first, but I gave her strength. We were at her house when it happened. He showed up drunk, violent, and…"

Sheele gently returned the jar back onto the shelf with a light tap. "He wasn't in his right mind. And that's when I discovered that I'm not, either. I killed him. Easily, too. It's like I have a screw loose, it just came so naturally. I saved her, but I guess all she saw was the blood on her floor. I didn't blame her, even then, but…I never saw her again. A few days later I came home to my parents dead in the dining room. Apparently, her boyfriend was in a gang, and his friends came for revenge. She probably told them where to find me. But, they probably threatened her for the information—If it meant she would be ok, I'll never hate her. But, anyways, they tried to kill me too, and they all went down in seconds. I was a small dog, yes, but I opened my mouth and found that I had the sharpest teeth."

Speechless, Inari shook her head, dazed from Sheele's story.

"Where was I going with all that?" Sheele looked at the ceiling, pinching her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, right—see, I can't deny the facts. My friend was the indirect cause of my parents' deaths. But that doesn't change the things she did for me. She gave me…life, or, a reason to keep living. I was useless, but she made me smile, and something like that can never be erased. So, keep the ring. That's what I meant."

Inari frowned, sliding her thumb over the round gem in the center of the ring. Dried blood crumbled off like peeling paint. What was she supposed to say to that? "Oh…ok…"

* * *

They returned to Night Raid's base soon afterward. The trip ate away the rest of the night and early morning, and Inari had no choice but to grow closer with Sheele. They shared memories, jokes and laughter, and Inari discovered that the Night Raid assassin truly had a good heart. How contradicting, for Sheele described herself as utterly useless in all regards, with one exception: killing. She had a knack for it, amazingly, and evidently, and was determined to use her only skill to help clean "society's trash." It was all she was good for, and all she could give.

Inari soon learned that Iokul's assassination had been a success.

No cure had made itself obvious, but Inari brought back a bag full of potential information. For the next few days, the other members of Night Raid filtered in and out of the living room, where she had set up a workstation, helping to scour through the piles of paper. When Inari wasn't busy training or guarding the base's perimeter (the only chore she was deemed capable of, now split between her and Lubbock,) she sat on a couch and glided her fingers across the pages. The ink letters were barley indistinguishable from the parchment, but with meticulous scrutiny and the heightened spatial awareness Wind Rider granted, Inari could decipher them. Seiger was given a small collection of Ambrosia to study. Being a doctor-in-training, he might prove successful in finding a cure.

Time, however, was of the essence. Lubbok brought back reports from the Capital—apparently, the Revolutionary Army had spies scattered throughout the city, even in the slums. A shortage of Ambrosia was making the addicts restless. Crime rates had skyrocketed. Bulat had found in one of the journals a record of Ambrosia in it's early stages. It seemed that Danven would sent the Casnes a portion of Ride on occasion to test its side affects. _That_ had not been a fun discovery for Inari. But it was useful. The papers reported severe withdrawal symptoms, including desperation, agitation, violence, hot-headedness, in some cases, insanity, and, after a maximum of three, death.

The papers also revealed the number of Helena and Danven's victims had reached into the thousands. From before Inari was even born, they had been very, very busy. It was very possible that, with all of those kidnapped, and the numerous other addicts that had been introduced to the drug on the street, several hundred thousand people could die within three months.

But Inari wouldn't let that happen.


	17. Kill the Idiot

**Chapter Seventeen**

 **Kill the Idiot**

* * *

Inari sat on the couch, a pile of papers stacked neatly on her lap. It was the beginning of her second week with Night Raid, and the days were beginning to become routine for her. Akame and Tatsumi's cooking rang from a distant room, slapping knives and clamoring pots. Bulat's spear struck through the air in the courtyard, spinning and slicing and dismembering an invisible enemy. Seiger and Lubbock had left for the surrounding woodland some hours ago, Mine and Leone were at the Capital, and Sheele was in her room, rummaging through the closet.

It was some sort of nervous tick, activating Wind Rider and scouring the base every twenty minutes. Inari would fall into her work with the papers, sink into the waters until completely encompassed by her focus, and then, like she forgot to breath, gasp awake from the depths of her studies and feel a burning in her chest that was only relieved by knowing exactly where everyone was. Withdrawing Wind Rider to her immediate surroundings, Inari promised herself that would be the last time. All morning, she had sat on that couch, and throughout all that time everyone had more or less remained in the same place.

Shaking her head, Inari stretched out her foot to rub against Jock's head. The lion grumbled sleepily, shifting on the floor so she could reach behind his ears. What a lazy grump, she thought with a smile. His fur was coarse and tangled with her toenails. Sandy, spicy perfume drifted from his coat, recalling images of a scorching savanna, yellow and fiery desert dunes blazing under a merciless sun. Of all the things Inari brought from her home, Jock's perfumes had brought the biggest light to her new life. The scent was powerful, familiar, and made her smile.

"These papers are just about taxes," Inari told him, tossing several pages to the pile on her left, where sat an ever increasing collection of useless information. She sighed, bending over to ruffle his mane. "We have a new mission tonight. Zank the Decapitator. He's a prison executioner that cracked under the job. He went missing, but there's been a spike of killings in the Capital as of late, and it fits his style to the mark. He strikes at night, and apparently we're going to stop him. And I don't think I can get out of this one," she craned her head back, letting the words flow out as an exasperated sigh. "Ya hear that, buddy?" She leaned forward, mushing Jock's cheeks together with her knuckles. "It looks like I might kill someone tonight."

The door to the courtyard slid open. "Hey!" Bulat's voice bellowed from across the room. "Any luck?"

Shaking her head, Inari straightened. The muscular man radiated with sweat. Wiping his forehead with a damp towel, Bulat grinned at her and pulled the door closed behind him. Jock lifted his head in a moment of intrigue, then, uninterested, returned to his recumbent position.

"You know," Bulat scratched his nose, tossing the towel around his neck, "I'd like to fight that lion one day."

"Absolutely not," Inari sniffed.

"Huh?"

"Have you looked at him?" She arched her eyebrows. "All he does is sit all day. He's a mush. You would kill him in seconds." As if he understood the insult, Jock growled half-heartedly, then released a deep sigh and closed his eyes. "See what I mean?" Her lips twisted into a wry grin.

Bulat grunted.

"If you're so restless, go out and kill a bear, or something," Inari suggested.

"A bear?"

"We're in the woods, aren't we? I'm sure there're tons of Danger Beasts around."

"Yea," Bulat sighed. "Maybe I'll do something like that." But instead of turning around and going back outside, the man crossed the room and joined her on the couch. The cushions sagged under his weight, and Inari had to shift over to avoid leaning towards him. Reaching out for a pile of papers, Bulat spread his legs, rest his elbows on his knees, and started reading.

Several minutes passed. Inari always appreciated silence, having been condoned to a lonely childhood. Often she would find herself needing to pass the time, when Seiger was in class or with her parents. Growing up an only child, Inari learned how to spend time with herself. Sitting quietly with Bulat, she was unperturbed—she had stopped feeling threatened in Night Raid's presence-and found it curious that the man shifted awkwardly. Every few seconds he would breath audibly, like he felt the need to make any sort of noise and substantiate the present. Silence didn't bother her, but restlessness did.

"What?" She asked him, setting her papers down with a sharp thump.

He hummed questioningly, looking up.

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," he answered innocently.

"Well, then, you're thinking very loudly," she didn't intend for any harshness in her tone.

Bulat laughed heartily. He slapped his knee then stood with a huff. "I guess I didn't realize—I'm probably too fresh from my training to do any real work."

"It's funny that you consider _this_ the real work," she motioned to the multitude of papers scattered about the couch and coffee table.

"Really? How come?" He rolled his shoulders, flexing his muscles and resulting in several harsh crackles. Bulat exhaled.

It was contagious, like a yawn-impulsively, Inari cracked her knuckles. "I just meant that, well, you seem so dedicated to your training regimes. I would think fitness would trump looking at papers any day."

"It depends on what's on the papers," Bulat grumbled, lowering to slip a single page from a stack. "We have to be in good shape to do what we do, but that's only half of it." He frowned at the ink. "I train so I can fix these problems," he waved the paper. "Means to reach the end."

"Huh," Inari tilted her head, studying the man in a different light. Despite his warm hospitality, she had dismissed him for a hard-headed jock. Exercising in the sunlight, shirt tossed carelessly to the side while his muscles flexed under the layers of sweat; it was easy to label him as nothing more than a narcissistic health-nut. Inari had to remember that this man used to be a high-ranking military officer for the Empire, before he abandoned the troops and allied with Night Raid. She would have to watch herself-underestimating him could prove dangerous.

"Oh, man!" Lubbock came strolling in from the hallway, rubbing his scalp sheepishly, an excited grin on his face. Inari had be so preoccupied with Bulat that she had completely forgotten her impulses to scour the base on a regular basis. Huh. How interesting. "Seiger! Oh, the bastard! What a guy!"

"Excuse me?" Inari turned towards the boy's direction. Lubbock's hair was a riled mess, the goggles sitting lopsided on his head.

"Lubbock," Bulat nodded in greeting.

"Hey, old man," Lubbock jumped over the back of a nearby couch, landing lazily on the cushions.

Bulat made to say something, but Inari held up a hand, speaking first. "What happened with Seiger?"

Lubbock laughed. "He punched a beehive!"

" _What?"_ Inari exclaimed.

"Yea, oh man! We were walking in the woods, and we passed a nest, and he claimed he could fight a thousands bees, so I dared him to. The guy's a legend!"

"Did he win?" Bulat asked excitedly.

"Is he _ok?!"_ Inari shot to her feet. She could hardly believe it—Seiger was _never_ the type to be so reckless!

Lubbock, sensing her anger, shrunk in his seat. Suddenly taking deep fascination in his nails, the boy's voice lowered to a dismissive murmur. "Um, he only got stung…once or twice."

Horrifying imagery raced through her head. Inari grabbed a nearby pillow and chucked it at his head. "Idiot!"

Lubbock caught it, smiling sheepishly. "He's fine! We walked back together!"

Yanking Jock's leash, Inari activated Wind Rider and stormed from the living room. She scoured the base, located Seiger in his bedroom, and thundered towards the banister.

"We brought back honey!" Lubbock called after her.

Taking long, furious strides, Inari pounded her way to the second floor, down the length of hallway, and right into his room, not bothering to knock. The door flew open, slamming into the adjacent wall.

Seiger stood in the center, facing the back window. His shirt lay discarded on the bed, riddled with holes. Wind Rider showed her what her eyes could not: small swelling blisters freckled his shoulders, cheeks, chest and arms. Layers of bandages tightly wrapped his abdomen, calves, and ankles. A strip was wound loosely around his hand, its end held taught in his teeth. He was mid-way through applying some sort of thick salve on the bandage from a round bottle on the night table. He peered at her over his shoulder. The cloth end fell from his teeth.

"Oh, crap," Seiger braced himself for the oncoming storm.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" She stood in the doorway, paralyzed by the shock of the cystic welts covering his body.

"Ok, wait a second—" he held his hands out, as if trying to reassure a hysteric, wild animal. Even Jock took several steps back.

"BEES?" She stormed inside. " _BEES?_ Are you _insane?!"_

"Inari—"

"YOU PUNCHED A BEEHIVE!?"

"Hey!" Seiger demanded. "I know what I was doing, ok?"

"Oh, so this was all intentional?" She motioned up his body.

"I have this cream, alright? It hardly hurts."

"Seiger, you punched a beehive. A _beehive,_ Seiger!" She emphasized the word with every ounce of furious ridicule she could muster. What idiot does a thing like that? "A beehive!"

"Sorry, what did I punch?"

"Don't try and act cute," she whipped her arm, but he ducked out of the way. Sighing in exasperation, Inari rubbed her face with her hands, then pinched the height of her nose between her eyes. "Why?"

"I thought it would be funny," Seiger shrugged.

"You thought it would be funny," she repeated, dumbfounded. Who was the man standing before her? It couldn't be Seiger—Seiger wasn't an utter moron. "You…claimed you could fight a thousand bees…and then did…because you thought it would be funny?"

"Well, I didn't _count_ them."

"Oh my god," she rubbed her temples. For the past week, she had put up with the utmost of childish immaturity, recklessness, and social ineptitude from the rest of Night Raid. Inari could expect something like this from Leone, or maybe Tatsumi if he were pushed enough, but never, _ever,_ Seiger. "What's happened to you?" She murmured.

"Excuse me?" There was a nearly indistinguishable shift in his tone.

"I don't…" She searched for words, "you never would have done something like back at home." It was the first time they had been alone together since joining Night Raid, and all her pent-up frustration of his evasiveness over the past week was finally coming forward. Seiger was supposed to be her anchor, but it almost felt like he had intentionally cut himself loose. "It's like I don't know you anymore."

avoiding her, that it was beyond his control, that he was playing a part. She had nearly succeeded, too, but being alone with him, finally, for the first time since their lives were changed forever, all her resolve shattered. For the past week, she had watched him train with a foreign eagerness, study with a newfound determination, socialize and roar with laughter of the likes she had never seen from him before. And now, with this unfamiliar recklessness…maybe he was always daring, she realized. He _had_ stuck his feet in a Danger Beast Worm's mouth. But that was in a life-threatening situation, unlike punching a beehive to prove some irrelevant masculine worth. He had changed _so_ much, and that infuriated her, but not nearly as much as his blatant disregard for her emotional well-being.

"I don't know if you've heard, but my parents are dead. And I'm living with their killers!" She laughed bitterly. "I murdered my mom—I don't know if anyone told you. _I_ certainly couldn't, considering how every time I walk in a room, it feels like you're just leaving. And I don't know about you, but I think it's pretty disgusting that Sheele has given me more comfort than you have. _Sheele,_ Seiger, the woman who cuts people in half with a snip of her giant scissors. _Sheele,_ who's probably responsible for _half_ of my guards' deaths, has shown more sympathy than my oldest friend.

"I'm living in a new building out in the middle of nowhere, dining and working and socializing with the very people who ruined my life, with a closet full of rough, scratchy cotton; I _still_ can't eat meat without thinking about my mother's mangled remains gushing blood like a splattered cockroach, or a homeless man I saw sink his teeth into a rat's raw flesh, or your brains _spilling_ from your ears after that worm's scream nearly _squandered_ you, and there's hardly ever a moment of silence in this house, and I'm undergoing this constant, suffocating anxiety of see-sawing back and forth between hating my parents for their villainy and hating myself for loathing them, and Aria's dead too but I can't even mourn _any_ of them without feeling guilty, and, oh right, apparently the entire _Empire_ is teeming with monstrosities and we're in the wake of a dawning revolution—a revolution, by the way, that we've somehow consigned too." Panting, Inari furiously wiped at her eyes, where hot tears threatened to shower. "But none of that…I mean…" She clenched her eyes, not quite sure what she was trying to say. In the grand scheme of things, her friendship with Seiger was so... _insignificant._ She knew it, but it didn't make her feelings any less legitimate. "It's _not_ fair that I have to lose you, too."

Dropping her face in her hands, Inari bared her teeth, forcing herself not to cry. She had done too much of that the past few days. Maybe she should slap him again-that made her feel a little better. And he deserved it, too, for deserting her. They should be going through this hell together, but the way he was acting, you wouldn't think Seiger was in hell at all.

But then Seiger wrapped his arms around her, and everything was a little less awful.

"You're right-I'm sorry," he whispered.

Staying silent, Inari wished she could melt in the warmth of his arms. Her face still hidden in her hands, she pressed herself into him, burying her face against his chest, wrinkling the cotton bandages. Taking deep breaths, she calmed her heart, taking solace in the fact that they were together again. Inari thought of Sheele, and the unnamed friend who abandoned the woman out of terror, and felt a stab of...it wasn't exactly guilt, but perhaps a cross between remorse and relief. At least Seiger was still with her. If he hadn't made it out of that night alive, Inari didn't know what she would do with herself.

 _That night..._ She still wanted to ask him _how_ he had made it out alive, but...this moment was too pure.

And that's when she smelled it-the intimate fragrance of ash and chocolate sticking to his neck. Lifting her head, Inari laughed softly, overcome with euphoria.

"You're wearing the perfume," she whispered.

Seiger chuckled shyly. "Yea. I, uh, it's the one I brought to Aria's estate." The mention of Inari's late friend didn't even bring discomfort to her heart. Not everything about Seiger had changed—he still smelled like the boy she grew up with.

"That makes me happy," she tilted her head up, breathing him in. The warmth of his arms around her body, his chest against hers; there was something relaxingly intimate about it. _There is_ something _different about him…something more…or, maybe…maybe I_ am _really seeing him for the first time._ Seiger changed, but something in her did to—a new thread between them, a relationship what was finally unfurling after years curled into a tight rosebud. _His skin is wet but…I kind of…I kind of want him to hold me forever…_

Startled by this new thought, Inari drew away. Seiger's arms dropped just as willingly, as if he, too, shared in the same confusing moment. His head turned away, and Inari was too flustered to run Wind Rider's hands over his face.

Clearing his throat, Seiger stammered. "I, um—"

"Yes," she straightened her skirts, then collected her bundle of hair and tossed it over her shoulder.

"No, uh, I was going to say, um, that reminds me," Seiger whirled around, pulling out the draw of his night table, and ruffled through the contents. Inari stood by, arms wrapped around her waist, and listened to the shuffling of papers and objects. "Here," Seiger pulled out a small journal. "I found this in the collection you brought back from home."

Heat—more heat—flooded into her cheeks. _Home._ Seiger had called the Ryder Estate his home.

Though Inari was drawn into the moment, Seiger seemed eager to leave it. The word "home" had come so naturally to him, that Seiger didn't even stop to examine what it meant. He threw open the weathered book and excitedly flipped through the pages, face taut, his teeth passively chewing on his lower lip. Not wanting to be left behind, Inari shook her head, clearing her distractions, and tried to turn her focus to the pages in his hands.

"Is it a cure?"

"No," Seiger's voice betrayed any stress he might or might not have been feeling. "And it's not _better,_ exactly, but it's incredibly fascinating."

"What is it?" Her curiosity, light and sweet, peaked out through her heavier emotions. The things Seiger found fascinating weren't confined to any one genre. The man was like a sponge eager for the waters of learning.

"Your grandfather's old journal," he answered. "The previous owner of Wind Rider. The man—I wish I could have met him—these notes are so _detailed._ He recorded nearly everything about the Imperial Arms. I was only able to skim through it, but the things he achieved were incredible. Wind storms, sound manipulation, moving objects by the air around them, _flight—_ from what I've gleaned, Wind Rider is one of the stronger known Imperial Arms."

Inari tightened the hold on her waist. She always knew she wasn't using Wind Rider's full potential. But what choice did she have—it was meant to be a weapon, but she used it as a guide. It took an incredible ounce of concentration to merge her mind with the surrounding atmospheres in the way she did. Even with the years of practice, Inari still went to bed tired every night. Wind Rider was a weapon that wanted to yank the air and bend it to her will, dominate the passive element, cage it, give it no room to disobey. Instead, Inari eased herself into the air, melting into its natural currents to wave it this way and that. She held a soft grip on its reigns, so she could watch how the wind washed against the world without disturbing the environment. She used the Imperial Arms to ride a free-spirit, which required more finesse. Anyone could flail their hands and splash the water in tall, frothy waves, but it took talent to glide through a pool with the grace and fluidity of a native Aquarian.

Inari didn't like to fight with Wind Rider, because it required breaking in the beast and losing her serene relationship with the atmosphere. To send a blast of wind barreling forward would mean disturbing the neighboring currents and sending ripples along her "vision". The whole point of using Wind Rider to "see" is taking advantage of how objects obstruct the natural wind paths. Using the air as a physical weapon meant creating obstacles that warped the invisible world guiding her, leaving her confused, nearly-blind, and capable of hitting a friend rather than an enemy.

Wind Rider could either bend the air to her will, or let her swim in it, but not both. She had tried, once pulling on the air around her body to lift her up into the sky, but the barrier whirling around her skin stretched the currents until it looked like the world was leaning toward her. Objects seemed longer and closer than they actually were, and she ended up collided into a tree. Her arm broke. It simply couldn't be done.

"Seiger," she murmured, not wanting to ruin his excitement but knowing she couldn't let it run wild, "I already knew those things. It can't be done—not by me." Inari could never use Wind Rider to it's full potential. As long as she was blind, there were powers she couldn't reach.

"But that's exactly it," he stepped closer, still flipping through the pages. "The way he describes it, like breaking in a wild horse—" Inari gasped, because that was the exact imagery she used—controlling the wind was like pulling hard on a horse's reins, or else letting it run free. "I know, right?" Seiger nodded, grinning. How big of a coincidence that she and her grandfather were to describe it the same exact way? "But this journal follows his whole story, his struggles in the beginning, bending the wind to his control, building his endurance; as he gradually fine-tunes one thing, he goes on to another, learning, experimenting, mastering." Seiger flipped the book to its last few pages. "It was a constant fight with the "horse," as he called it, but then, here, listen to this, it's long, and a bit hard to follow, but I think you'll find it interesting:

'February 17th. Yesterday, I lied on the battlefield. I always wondered why Wind Rider wouldn't heal me. It could breath life into others, but when I lie dying, like that time in the North, when an enemy soldier rammed his sword through my ribs, Wind Rider doesn't kiss me. I was lucky then, and I was lucky yesterday. Then, a comrade carried me back to camp, and a brilliant medic was in our midst. But yesterday, I lay alone, caked in blood and mud, General Torro's Imperial Arms, Reaper's Artifact: Grimmlore, raised above my chest for a second strike. I thought, this is it. Torro's scythe will finally slash through me, and I will die. And I thought, also, that if Wind Rider would save me, I could save my men, too. But the years of contentment were finally catching up to me. Wind Rider hated me. It used to be a majestic horse, one with giant wings that hurled the air forward in terrible hurricanes, but the Emperor had it caught, caged, skinned, and melted it's body and wings into the metal I wear on my arms. That is how Divine Atmosphere: Wind Rider came to be, but the Horse never stopped wanting to run, and I, as a master who demands obedience and controlled strides, never let it. Throughout the years, I felt its desire to fly and it's heating temperament with me. I forced it into things it never wanted to go, and though I loved it, and thought of it as my most essential ally, a small part of me always considered it an enemy. I always knew what it wanted, but I never gave in, and I feared that small part that was still sentient, that still fought against my controls; that small part that hated me. So as I lay, dying, and awaiting further death as Torro edged closer, I thought, 'you finally got what you wanted. Your master will finally die, his last hope lying with you, knowing that that one small part he could never control is the one part he needs to keep living. The one part that can say no. So, my beloved Wind Rider, say no to me, because it is what you deserve. This is my karma, for tying a wild beast that wanted to fly, and in this small way, you can finally achieve freedom.' I wasn't mad at it, in fact, I was sorry, and I was happy that it could have this one victory over me. So, lying there, I opened my hand and let go of the reigns, I let the Horse do what it wanted with the wind, I stopped fighting it and let it be. And then, the Horse must have realized that though its master never let it fly wild, he had it do things it never could do alone. He had it listen to bird songs two miles away, heal the plague-stricken children, build instead of destroy, though the two did, also, destroy together. The Horse must have loved me, or loved me then, or pitied me, and suddenly I felt its Breath of Life kiss my wounds. It wasn't me—Wind Rider, of it's own will, healed me, and what more, the Horse finally stopped fighting, but raced through the air and _let_ me ride it's back. It showed me everything, the leaves around me, the grass, the soldiers, Torro—I could close my eyes but still see it all. It was no longer a matter of fighting the Horse, but working with it, loving it, becoming one with it. I wasn't controlling the wind, I _was_ the wind. It no longer bent to my will, it _followed_ it. And I knew, in that moment, that at last, I had mastered it, and could do it all.'"

Stopping, Seiger looked at her eagerly. "Do you see? Your grandfather managed, somehow, by merging with Wind Rider, to use the gauntlets to both fight _and see_ at the same time."

Inari chewed her lip, thoughtful but hesitant. "I think there's a lot more I'll have to learn before I can do that, though."

"Well, of course," Seiger snapped the journal shut, "but we finally have a place to start. Before, it was all blind experimentation." Inari didn't move, and a smile flickered across his lip. " _Blind_ experimentation," he repeated.

"Oh, I heard you," she said irritably. She wasn't going to even justify his pun with a reaction. Instead, she moved to the bed, delicately sat on the edge, and thought. "What did you say before? 'Sound Manipulation?"

"Yea," Seiger stretched his arms wide. He winced.

She glared at him. "Finish putting on the bandages."

"Yes ma'am," he teased, but his voice was edged with weariness. She listened as he ripped a line of bandage from its roll, twined one end around his left hand and held the other between his teeth, and began spreading a gel-like substance from the jar on his night table across the fabric. "I don't know how your grandfather thought of it," Seiger said through his clenched teeth, his words distorted slightly. "Maybe he was taught. It doesn't matter. I didn't read a whole lot of it yet, but he was able to use the wind to hear things a mile away, _possibly_ communicate with people at the same distance, and de-amplify any noises he makes, rendering him more or less inaudible. And I don't just mean his voice—he could walk without a single sound. Do you realize how useful that would be?"

"For an assassin, yes," Inari's lips curled.

"I think there's physics involved. I'll read more of this, from the beginning, but you should talk to Lubbock."

"Lubbock?" She asked him uncertainly.

"The guy is a genius," Seiger grinned. "He joined Night Raid before attending a University, but he did so much independent study that his school ran out of things to teach him."

She wasn't convinced. Sure, she and Lubbock have exchanged a maximum of twenty words in all their time together, but still, Seiger's claim seemed a little more than unlikely. Lubbock was a moron. "Who told you that?"

"Lubbock did," Seiger's animated motion reminded her of an over-eager puppy. It took him a moment to realize her implications. "Oh, ok," he gave her an exaggerated nod. "I know—just talk to him. You'll see for yourself."

Combing her fingers through her hair, Inari rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine."

"There's more," Seiger began binding his shoulders. Inari received a whiff of the salve and coughed at the briny, sour flavor. "But I think we should focus one step at a time. Start practicing, and try to get more comfortable using Wind Rider to fight as well as see."

It wasn't a matter of comfort, she wanted to say, but Seiger wouldn't want to hear it. She had experience controlling the air—sending gusts to push people higher, closing doors, punching bullets of winds into Danger Beasts' heads—but the simple fact was that every time it put her in immense momentary danger. Yanking the wind causes ripples to wave throughout the atmosphere, distorting her "vision" and leaving her vulnerable. If anything, what Inari had to learn was balance between the two. And, perhaps, she should explore her own "connection" to Wind Rider a little more.

Holding out her hand, Inari leaned forward. "Can I see the journal?"

"Sure," Seiger slipped it off the night table and placed the book on her palm. Residue from the salve must have transferred from his skin, and Inari wrinkled her face at the sticky leather. Splaying her fingers, she pat the mattress until her hands curled around Seiger's discarded shirt. She used it to wipe the cover.

Inari traced the natural frays of the leather binding, flicked her long nails down the length of jagged page ends, examining the textures. Bringing the cover to her face, she sniffed, inhaling scents of dried ink, coffee beans, the archaic, musky perfumes of aged paper, and faint traces of copper. Satisfied, she bounced the journal playfully in her hands.

"I found this in my parents' room," she told him.

"Really?" Seiger ripped away another bandage.

"Yes," she frowned. "Tucked under their mattress."

"Well, that's curious," Seiger scratched his nose.

"No, not really," Inari stood, reaching out her hand for Seiger to take the book. "That entry was dated February seventeenth, you said? He died on a February twenty-first. From over exertion. I don't know what year this was written," she said indifferently, waving the journal, "but I don't think it's coincidence."

Seiger silently accepted the book, clearly agitated. He had been so excited, but, well, she couldn't blame him. He could never comprehend the burden of an Imperial Arms. Inari had spent years building up her stamina, practicing and training; her grandfather, even longer. Yet he pushed his limits with Wind Rider too far. He may have gained immense power, but it was short lived. It made sense that her parents would hide this from her.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. "Seiger?" Mine's voice chirped from the other side.

"Come in," he called.

"I heard you fought off a horde of bees," Mine sashayed inside, her eyes narrowed suggestively.

"After stupidly punching their hive," Inari crossed her arms, arching her brows. The lines of Mine's face stretched, her eyes widening in surprise upon noticing the girl in the room. "Can we help you?"

Mine flipped a long trail of her pigtail over her shoulder. "Najenda is back. She's calling everyone downstairs."

"Alright," Inari sighed, tossing the journal onto the bed. She looked at Seiger and nodded for the hall.

"Yea, let's go," he crossed for his wardrobe, dismissively taking out a cotton tunic. He ran his hands through his hair.

"Don't do that," Inari glared at him over her shoulder. "You'll get that disgusting salve all over your head."

Mine wrinkled her nose. "Is that what that smell is?"

"Disgusting?" Seiger poked out of the tunic's collar. "I'll have you know, this stuff could save lives."

"Oh, but haven't you heard?" Inari smirked, turning back towards the door and passing Mine without so much as a nod. "That's not what Night Raid does."

* * *

 **A/N:** Can you tell I had a lot of fun writing this chapter? :P And, believe it or not, this incident with the bees will end up saving a character's life...

Let me know if you enjoyed! ^.^


	18. Kill Any Plans of Peace

**Chapter Eighteen**

 **Kill Any Plans of Peace**

* * *

" _The night is not inherently anything. It is what we make it."_

"Hm?" Bulat looked at her, his helmet sliding gracefully along the metal of his armor. With Incursio donned, the man was completely enveloped in a mass of intricate protection, every inch of his skin covered by supposedly-impenetrable material.

"What?" Inari glanced up, registering the chill in the air for the first time. Drawing her cloak flaps closer to her body, she hunched her shoulders. "Sorry, I was just thinking out loud."

"Ah," Bulat grunted. The roof groaned under their weight, its shingles cracking with a touch of Inari's gloved fingers. She and Bulat were paired together, ordered to hide in the chimney shadows—Inari, for she could use the wind to scout the surrounding areas, and Bulat, for his armor forbade him from posing as an inconspicuous citizen haunting the nighttime streets—while the others wandered through the city, waiting for Zanku to find them. "Anything I can help with?"

Inari, who was supposed to be swimming through the wind and account for every body currently outside, turned her head towards the metal giant beside her. Danven's mask tagged her face, one of several cautionary measures to hide her appearance; a tight head scarf wrapped her hair, crowned by a hood awning over her forehead and held it place with pins. Leather arm-guards were strapped over the gauntlets, each housing a dagger and three long needles. Inari was dressed to be forgotten; dressed to kill.

"Excuse me?" She asked him, a shallow warning in her voice.

"People usually mumble when their minds are heavy," Bulat said. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you."

 _He's here for me,_ Inari thought wryly. Though Wind Rider couldn't slip inside Incursio and scan the man's face, she was sure he watched her intently. Was he suspicious? Did he detect her doubts and wanted to wring them out of her with a façade of kindness and concern? Or was the oaf as compassionate as he sounded? No, certainly not—Bulat had the mind of a military general. The Empire doesn't trust just anyone with its armies. He was shrewd, sagaciously gleaning as much as he could while putting on a front of camaraderie. Maybe Sheele told him about her and Inari's conversation at the Ryder estate, and Bulat wanted to discern any threats to his team.

Shaking her head, Inari inhaled the night air. Through the darkness of her eyes, silver skylight delicately touched the world, gently dancing before her in distorted shapes, a kaleidoscope of moon, stars, and blindness. Inari was crouched in the shadows of a bakery's chimney, scents of singed pastry and ash warming the crisp night. Her cloak billowed elegantly behind her, a cape or dolphin arching over the rippling air currents. Completely disguised, Inari felt dangerous and powerful. She rode Wind Rider through the streets, over the alleys, galloping past slumbering homes and a settled fog of fear. Leone and Seiger walked in the marketplace, down a lane of deserted vendors. Lubbock was running from a possibly-rabid dog. Sheele poked in an alley-way, Mine and Nejenda were beyond Inari's radius, and Akame and Tatsumi lounged on a street corner several blocks away.

"Thank you," Inari forced warmth into her tone. "But it's not like that—I was just thinking," her voice gradually lowered in volume. Thinking; thinking about what Najenda said earlier.

* * *

After all the preparations had been set, the duos paired, the locations determined, and the final warnings of caution uttered by their leader, Night Raid went to feast at the table. Akame's grilled meat wafted throughout the base, titillating everyone's noses, coaxing their stomachs to abandon decorum and swallow the food whole. Najenda, however, held out her hand—the metal one—and beckoned Inari forward with a bent finger and solid call of her name.

"Should I stay too?" Akame uttered, disinterested. Najenda made a dismissive noise, waving her second-in-command away. The tall, feline woman passed Inari without so much as a nod.

A stone sat at the pit of Inari's stomach, spreading webs of cold throughout her nerves. Did she do something? Was she in trouble? It irked her, having to show respect to the lean woman on the throne. Najenda ruled over Night Raid, a queen of killers—the team, who consisted of the most immature and hyperactive people Inari had ever met, hardly showed any signs of disobedience, following Najenda's words like they were law—and perhaps they were. Najenda was cold, collected; she lounged on a looming chair with satin cushions, her coat hugging her shoulders like a cape, its sleeves lying limp at her sides. Her eyes were constantly narrowed, her lips in an eternal smirk, the essence of intimidation. Inari had yet to see what made Najenda so special. But then again, she had yet to see much of Najenda at all.

"Yes?" Inari tried to sound casual, tilting her head innocently.

"I've been meaning to speak with you," the woman said. Even her voice sounded wry. Before Inari's imagination could run wild, Najenda continued, catching the girl completely off guard. "I had an idea, and I want to know what you think."

Najenda wanted her, _Inari's,_ opinion? Thinking back on the strategy meetings for Zank and Iokul, Najenda _had_ seemed susceptible to input. Akame and Bulat were active participants in the planning, as were Leone and Lubbock on occasion. Now that Inari was thinking about it, sifting through her memories of past sessions, she realized that Najenda wasn't as egotistical as she seemed. The woman simply exuded this aura of confidence that immediately made Inari want to think the worst, (and being the leader of Night Raid certainly didn't help matters), but in reality, Najenda _was_ pretty open to input.

Skeptical, still, Inari arched a brow. "Ok," she said cautiously.

"Don't stand so far away," Najenda waved Inari closer. "I don't bite. Not you, anyways," she grinned slyly. Inari tried to show no hesitation in approaching the team's leader. Najenda leaned back in her chair, pinching her chin thoughtfully. "I've been thinking, Inari, of Night Raid's next step, and I think you might prove a very valuable player."

Inari swallowed. "What's your idea?"

"Our mission—our finish line," Najenda amended, her words coming slowly, methodically, "is Honest. Kill him, and from there, the Revolutionary Army will overthrow the Empire. The Emperor is a child. Without his Prime Minister, the boy will be a sad, lost puppy, and he'll surrender, or die in the pressure and chaos."

Inari rocked on her heels. "Ok…" She had heard this plan already. None of it was new.

"Well, we can't do anything until the Revolutionary Army is ready," Najenda crossed her legs, ruffling her clothes, "but that doesn't mean we can't plan ahead. Your parents were close with the Empire, yes?"

"Mhhm."

"Does Honest, or any high-ranking official, know your face?"

"I've met Prime Minister Honest before—" Inari winced, then quickly amended herself: "Sorry, just Honest. The "Prime Minister" part is just a force of habit," she said weakly.

"But does he remember you?" The throne creaked as Najenda leaned forward. "If you were to have an audience, would he recognize you?"

Inari frowned, looking at the woman suspiciously. "Probably."

"And your confident with that answer?"

Nodding, Inari de-tangled her arms from her waist. She straightened, delightfully intrigued—but hesitant, of course—with the direction Najenda seemed headed. "Yes. If not me, then Pri— _Honest,_ will certainly recognize Wind Rider. It was he who gave it to me, a gift to my family. And, also, plenty of palace administrators and officials, too."

A grin threatened to break across Najenda's face, the corners of her lips twitching. "See, I ask this because, as of now, my top priority is planning Honest's assassination. It just so happens that that's my top concern, too. Killing the Emperor's advisor isn't any old mission—he will have guards. _Trained_ guards, and I don't mean the masochist needle sticks most of our targets hide behind. Imperial Arms users—a small army of them. We can be outnumbered, even possibly out-skilled, and, well, you get the point."

"You want me to kill him," Inari closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "From the inside."

Najenda's mouth split into a sharp grin. Inari was mesmerized, so enveloped in the insanity of it all, that she couldn't stop outlining every one of the woman's facial features. Sharp jaw, short chop of silken hair sitting just short of her ears, a nose that faced the heavens; Najenda was shaped like an exotic bird, proud, powerful, and conniving.

"Insightful," the woman said.

* * *

"Do you see him?" Bulat asked, yanking Inari from her thoughts.

"If I did, then I would tell you," she muttered, feeling a rising desire to massage her temples. No one else was around them, but she was too paranoid—no, _cautious—_ to lift her mask and rub her scalp. Najenda had been very clear in what she wanted: _"Hide your face tonight. In fact, do it whenever you go somewhere where you can be seen by anyone who might recognize you. Keep your allegiance with us a secret, so if you do end up in the palace, no one will bat an eye._

Thus, the mask muffling her face, the leather arm-guards over her Imperial Arms, Jock's absence at her side; not only would Inari have to hide herself, but Najenda also forbade her from any excessive uses of Wind Rider. The mere thought of taking orders sent nails digging into her stomach, but it was this new limitation that really had her thoughts in a knot. Practically speaking, Najenda was right: if Inari acted in way that would broadcast her Imperial Arms' abilities, it was inevitable that Honest would trace it back to her. She would be pinned as a member of Night Raid, blamed for her parents' murder, and Najenda's plan of sending her to work on the inside would crumble to dust. Seiger was disappointed to hear it. Inari couldn't experiment with Wind Rider during the battle—in fact, unless it was an _absolute necessity,_ she was restricted to using Wind Rider as a means to see, examine her opponents and surroundings, and nothing else. It was lucky that she had experience with the sword and daggers, or else Inari would be utterly useless in a fight.

Of course, Najenda's plan was exactly that: a plan. Nothing was set in stone yet, and it was going to stay that way unless an opportunity presented itself. Inari couldn't exactly go waltzing into the palace, after being reported as missing from her parents' murder scene. In all likelihood, the idea would soon be left behind to rot. Nonetheless, anticipation prickled her skin, breathing over her shoulder, a looming shadow of possibilities. What better way to flee Night Raid than dock at the enemy's harbor? What better way to examine the Empire than witnessing everything first hand? Inari only had the side of the story that Night Raid told her. Going to Honest, rising in his ranks, and cuddling up to the Capital was the best way to see things from the other end.

Inari winced. Scouring the Capital took a tremendous amount of effort. She had to keep track of the entire team, who were scattered throughout the city, _and_ investigate every possible moving shadow in case it was Zank. The night was calm, clearing the air of any ranging currents that would throw her overboard, but the human mind could only stretch so thin.

"Leone and Seiger are nearing the end of my radius," she squinted. "I'm losing sight of them."

"Should we move?" Bulat suggested.

"Then I'll just lose sight of someone else," she frowned. Damn, how useful it would be to use the wind to send messages. But Imperial Arms required practice, and even if Inari could somehow figure it out, Leone and Seiger were too far away. Trying to reach them would be like using a hundred-pound weight in your first training session. Inari had to work up to it, gradually stretch her muscles; patience and practice.

Sweat trickled down her face. Inari clutched the roofs shingles, gritting her teeth, trying to expand Wind Rider's radius. A flock of crows pecked at the road three blocks North; an old man exited a smithy, locking the door behind him; a litter of mangled cats fought over chicken bones in an alley fifty yards away; cloaked bandits threw a brick at a house's window, Tatsumi split from Akame, turning into a back road, Lubbock finally spun around to take his hairy attacker head on—with a flick of his hands, the dog's head was ripped from its body. _No, further, go further. Find Zank. Where the hell is he…_

"Inari!" Bulat's sudden grip on her shoulder tore her from the wind.

She faced him, lips curled in a snarl behind her mask. "Why did you do that?!" She hissed. Maintaining her focus was difficult enough, but having to build it up all over again?

"You're shaking," his giant helmet nodded towards her limbs. Indeed, Inari's limbs were trembling. Her breath had grown heavy, sharp and quick, and her tunic clung to the perspiration on her skin. "Take a break," he said kindly.

She held still, contemplating, then realized she wouldn't be able to fight if she were exhausted. Sitting back, Inari uncurled her legs from their crouch, instantly reveling in the relief. Reclining, she snuggled her head into a crook in the roof, cradled by the shingles, and stared blankly at the sky. Wind Rider's touch receded to lay only on her immediate surroundings.

"Even the best of us have a limit," Bulat stretched his arms wide, causing his armor to creak as if cracking it's joints. "It took me years to build up the stamina to stay invisible for long lengths of time. All I do is train all day, and yet I still can't exceed four hours."

"You can turn invisible?"

"It's my trump card," Bulat explained. In addition to the various skills, Imperial Arms all have that one superior move that tips the scale—Wind Rider could heal fatal wounds, for instance.

"Incursio's Trump Card is invisibility?" Inari asked skeptically. For such a infamously powerful weapon, that seemed a little…cheep.

"Ironic, I know," Bulat laughed. "But I don't think I would trade it for anything. It's exhausting, but unlike other Trump Cards, its reliability coincides with my durability." He paused, and Inari could practically _hear_ the grin behind his visor. "Reliability, durability; I came up with that. Catchy, no?"

"Sure," Inari shrugged. She was more curious as to why Bulat was sharing such a sensitive secret. Trump Cards were the winning hand, the tour de force that completely changes the tides. Now that she knew Bulat's, Inari could use that knowledge against him. Then again, Night Raid knew about Breath of Life—she revealed in explaining Seiger's situation. They were asking too many questions about it, and she had no choice.

"There are Trump Cards that can only be used once a day, thrice in a _lifetime;_ others deplete the Imperial Arms, rendering it useless until it recharges an hour later."

"That's what mine does," Inari said. She had made it very clear to Night Raid that though she _could_ theoretically heal one person's fatal wound, doing so would render her completely blind. If they were still in a fight, one casualty was better than two.

"It's poetic, though," Bulat said. "Such destructive tools, and their ultimate power is so… _quiet."_

"Wind Rider isn't destructive," Inari's mono-tone bellied her insistence.

Bulat sighed dreamily. "But that's exactly it— _oof,_ such a _beautiful_ sentiment!" He slapped his thigh, resulting in a harsh _clang_ echoing through the night. "Ah, sorry about that. I just get so excited. Destruction, creation; two sides of the same coin, really. Or, rather, there's potential for both in everything. General Xanther used Wind Rider to plow through enemies, tear trees from their roots, houses from it's shingles; you use it to see, and save people from the dead."

Startled, Inari sat up. "How do you know about my Grandfather?"

Bulat paused. "Grandfather?"

"General Xanther," she explained.

" _General Xanther is your grandfather?!"_

"…Yes"

Bulat smacked his helmet. "Incredible! That—that's amazing."

"Wait—"

"It's make a lot of sense, too. It wasn't bothering me, but, ah, I see the connections now."

"How do you—"

"Anyone who's anyone knows about Xanther!" Bulat interrupted, but answered her all the same. "Well, anyone in the Empire. He was an unbelievable leader, a _legend_ among the troops. He was known as the Hurricane General. He even mentored _my mentor,_ General Liver." _General Liver…_ The name sounded oddly familiar. She was about to ask, but Bulat kept talking. "You said that Wind Rider was a gift from Honest, so I didn't put two and two together. But…All right," he nodded, "I see it know."

"Did you know him?" She asked eagerly. Inari never met Xanther—he sacrificed himself in a Southern battle so his troops could retreat.

"Unfortunately, no," Bulat sighed. "But I wish. "

"Hm. It's a small world."

"Sometimes," he agreed.

After a moment of silence, Inari perched herself into a crouch, heels arched and toes digging into the shingles, one hand balance against the chimney. "Alright, I'm going to check on things." She closed her eyes, activated Wind Rider, and kicked the horse's sides. She dove into the world, speeding through the currents that blanketed the streets, the alleys, the city of stone houses. Searching first for the other team members, Inari checked her mental roster; Lubbock on a bench, Sheele peeking at a wagon. Tatsumi—

"What is he doing…" Leaning forward, Inari squinted, pinpointing on the scrawny boy. Tatsumi wasn't with Akame—Najenda had assigned every new member to one of the more experienced—but racing down the streets, turning corners like he followed some sort of mental map. But Tatsumi was new to the Capital, he couldn't possibly know his way around so confidently. Maybe he was following some _thing._

Her eyes widened. "Zank's Imperial Arms—what is it, exactly?"

"Spectator" Bulat said, his body tensed in mirrored anticipation. "A third eye strapped to his forehead. We suspect it has something to do with sight, but our sources weren't sure—why? What's happening?"

"Sight…" Inari whispered. Her mind raced. "Can he…alter someone else's? Make people see things?"

"It's possible," Bulat answered impatiently.

"We need to go," Inari stood in one swift motion. Still half-engrossed with the wind, she looked beyond Tatsumi, scouring the walkways for any destination. Several blocks from the boy, the street opened into a spacious courtyard, shrubbery, benches and reflection pools cunningly scattered around a stone park into an aesthetic masterpiece.

And there, in the center, stood a broad man with a cape billowing in the wind.


	19. Kill the All-Seeing Eye

**Chapter Nineteen**

 **Kill the All-Seeing Eye**

* * *

Inari and Bulat raced across the rooftops. Chimneys stabbed at the sky; their path an intermittent road of sloping shingles, flat stone, jutting architectural additions useful only for the eyes and swallowing gaps between buildings threatening to devour them whole. The two of them weaved seamlessly between the chimneys, leapt over the crevices and stormed into the night, sometimes dashing a hairs-breath from the edge, crumbling stone pushed from their steps to smatter against the street, sometimes skipping onto lowered balconies and swinging to its neighbor.

For reasons unexplained, Inari was terrified. Not for herself; no, the cringing in her heart and whipping along her nerves like a rider slashed the reigns across her back, demanding _faster, faster,_ were for Tatsumi, and the unknown. The night was going to end in death; would a red sun rise at dawn, coating the city in blood? How many graves will be marked before the clock strikes morning? Would she be sad? Would she…feel _anything?_

The cold slapped her cheeks, pressing her mask against her face, the cape flying wildly behind her. "Here!" she called out, dropping into a crouch, feet straitening beneath her to slide down the sloping rooftop. The shingles scratched against her friction, crying like torn paper. She slipped over the edge, landing gracefully on a balcony bellow. At her command, Bulat pounced into the air, plummeting over and past her perch onto the street. His feet thudded against the floor and Inari lunged. The air tossed her cape high. Bulat extended his armored arm. Relying on Wind Rider's navigation, she positioned her body; falling, falling, falling; she landed on his offered support, kicked off his elbow, swept towards the sky in an elegant twirl, then hit the ground running.

The silent communication between them was exquisite; teamwork in it's purest form.

They weren't far, then. Tatsumi was but a block ahead of them, the courtyard stretching under a drop of stairs several more yards away. She and Bulat had made incredible timing. She wanted to bellow the boy's name, but her throat was swallowed in the resisting wind.

"Where are the others?" Bulat's voice was fantastically level, as if they were sitting indoors, not racing with the wind whistling in their ears.

"No one's in ear-shot," she managed. "Akame is walking through an alley a bit behind us—she's the closest, but there's no time to run and get her." Tatsumi was in the courtyard then, approaching the man with a desperate gait. "What is he doing?" She marveled in panicked aghast. "Why isn't he drawing his sword?"

Surely she should have been utterly drained, but Inari's legs continued pushing. The tall buildings lining the street fell away, the road turning into stone. Like a field amidst a forest, the courtyard was a massive stone circle ringed with looming towers. Staircases led down into the center, where sat benches, trees, flowers, and an enormous mosaic mural that was probably beautiful in the sunlight. In the day, when the Capital swarmed with crowds, the park would have been stunning; people drifting along the mural's tiles, looking down at their feet to appreciate its colors, roving the park like aimless bees, basking in the temporary relief of the stress and pressures that drove them there.

But once again, the night turned the world dark.

When she was younger, Inari believed that nighttime could be peaceful as much as it's opposite, but recently, the world was proving otherwise.

The man standing in the mural's center waited Tatsumi with an unnerving grin. His mouth stretched nearly from ear to ear, malicious, unnatural, broken. Silver disks cupped over his ears, shaggy hair jutted in all directions, crowning his head in the shape of a child-drawn sun. He was tall, bulky, something about his muscles seemed odd and misshapen. His arms were stretched wide, protected in heavy fabrics and metal guards, and a band wrapped his head, holding in place a metal oval over his forehead.

Tatsumi—Inari couldn't believe it—Tatsumi ran into the man's arms.

"TATSUMI!" Bulat bellowed. They threw themselves down the stairs, darting towards the pair.

Tatsumi didn't respond—the man, Zank, tilted his head towards them. Inari knew she wasn't supposed to blatantly use Wind Rider's more obvious abilities, but Zank raised his hand close to Tatsumi's head. With a sharp _clink,_ a malicious blade emerged from Zank's wrist-guards, poking over the backside of his hand as he pet Tatsumi's head. Not risking the time to re-think her decision, Inari reached out, focusing on the small slip of air between Tatsumi and Zank's bodies, "whipped Wind Rider's reigns" and yanked her arms back. Tatsumi was torn out of Zank's grip, the blades slashing his cheek, and thrown backward. The air currents rippled, distorting her view of the surroundings, like a drop of liquid-color into a tank of water; it leaked into the adjacent currents, staining their natural cycle, pushing everything _back._

"NO!" Tatsumi cried, coursing through the air. Bulat rushed forward, catching him. "Let go of me! SAYO! SAYO!"

"Get ahold of yourself," Inari snapped, desperately trying to regain a normal awareness of her surroundings. Slowly, the disruption ebbed.

"Now now, that wasn't very nice," Zank cooed. "You tore him away from his one true love."

Tatsumi, cradled in Bulat's arms, spun his head to stare a Zank. His eyes widened in surprise. "Who the hell are _you_!?"

"It's Zank," Inari growled. "His Imperial Arms affected your vision. Whatever you saw, it wasn't real."

Tatsumi gasped, inhaling a trembling, furious breath. "Sayo…I'll kill you. I'LL KILL YOU, you bastard!" He flailed wildly, managing to break out of Bulat's grip, unsheathe his sword with the sharp lick of metal against metal, and fly towards Zank in one swift motion. Rearing his weapon, Tatsumi wailed, a furious, horrible battle-cry that prickled the hairs on Inari's neck. Such fury in one so young—it was of the like she had never heard before. His scream reverberated in her chest, pinching her heart and clutching her breath in a ruthless grasp.

What did Tatsumi see?

"He's going to get himself killed," she shook her head, re-awakening her senses. Darting forward, Inari rushed after the boy, crossing her arms and unsheathing her daggers. The entire time, Zank remained standing, the nasty grin never wavering, as if welcoming Tatsumi's darkened spirit to barrel through his spine. Tatsumi wasn't in his right mind. Charging the enemy without a plan, without any sense of strategy or common sense, fueled only by boiling rage, its steam clouding all other judgment? They didn't even know the limits of Zank's Imperial Arms.

Tatsumi swiped his sword at Zank's neck. The man blocked the attack effortlessly, the blades of his arm-guards ringing against Tatsumi's weapon. Tatsumi recovered, stabbed again. Zank sidestepped, letting Tatsumi's momentum push him past. Fists smashed into the boy's back, forcing him to the ground and snapping his jaw against the concrete in a sickening _crack._ Bellowing, Inari stole Zank's attention towards her. She locked onto every vibration, every hum in the air that shook with the slightest twitch of his muscles. Closing the distance between them, Inari feigned left, then slashed her dagger up across his face. Impossibly, Zank blocked, crossing an arm over his neck and catching her wrist. Vaguely aware of Bulat scurrying Tatsumi away, Inari's mind raced with her years of training. _Twist your arm, slam your foot into his shin_ — _bent legs—launch away, yanking your arms free and shoving him back in one swift motion._

But when Inari kicked, Zank's leg shot out. He hooked his foot around her grounded ankle and tugged. She lost her balance. Before she could do anything, Zank whirled her around to his left—

Something slammed into her. Yellow dots exploded before her eyes. Screaming pain constricted her torso—a fire in her chest—her ribs, her ribs—a man laughed behind the black veil—

"Inari, Inari I'm so sorry," Bulat whispered.

 _What…_ She wheezed, a metallic taste in her mouth. Forcing herself to keep a firm grip on Wind Rider, she surveyed the scene—gods, it hurt so much. Bulat had dragged her several feet away from Zank, who still stood in the center of the courtyard, his grin curled. No liquid soaking her clothes; she wasn't bleeding, at least. Squeezing her eyes, Inari's loathing for the smug, hulk of a monster reached an insurmountable new height. He must have…predicted her every move…and when Bulat came to barrel into Zank, the devil used her as a shield. And he _let_ Bulat carry her away. Zank was just playing with them.

"I…" Inari coughed, trying to swallow the raging pain in her chest, "really hate…that guy."

"One minute more, and hopefully there will be nothing left to hate," Bulat rose, brandishing Incursio's intricate axe-like hand weapons. He wasn't enveloped in his impenetrable armor—Bulat must have deactivated his Imperial Arms at the very last minute in a desperate attempt to reduce the damage. Had he struck her while fully powered, surly the force would have killed her.

Too distracted to do anything but survey the air and try to breath, Inari felt him leave. Bulat charged Zank, roaring his weapon's name to activate it's protection, "INCURS—" and then—stopped short, his body leaning, twisted mid-sprint. Bulat gasped…and dropped his weapon. He fell to his knees, bending in a bow.

"BULAT!" But he didn't hear her. The man just stared at the ground, his helmet-less face frozen in an expression of shock, lips agape, eyes wide and tensed.

Digging her elbows into the mural tiles, Inari tried to push herself up. Her ribs sang. She felt like a fish out of water, writhing and flopping on the ground. Gritting her teeth, she glared at Zank with her useless, blank eyes. The man was evidently smug, confident in his abilities, and enjoyed toying with them like a cat with it's prey. But over-confidence could be a weakness in of itself. She needed to buy time for… _anything._

"What did you do to him?" Inari growled, her voice twisted in agony and rage.

Zank's laughter rang shrill in her ears. He really was a madman. "SPECTACULAR!" He threw his arms up. "Spectacular is Spectator, no?" He laughed again. Inari didn't know how to respond—maintaining her awareness and activation of Wind Rider was difficult enough. Zank cocked his head. " _Spectator_ ," he emphasized, then fanned his fingers around the metallic ball-shaped object strapped to his forehead. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Inari would have no way of knowing. "Spectator. Is that your Imperial Arms?"

"Ooh, insightful, she is," the man mocked. He glanced at Bulat, who hadn't moved once, and sighed blissfully. "I had hoped for more fun tonight. You are all so weak. Yes, yes, love—the best weakness of them all." Zank took a step towards him.

"Wait!" Gritting her teeth, Inari assessed the situation. Tatsumi was sprawled behind her, unconscious, the side of his jaw swelled against the air. She was too tired to search for any bodies outside the bounds of the courtyard, and Bulat, completely unprotected, was still bowed in silent submission, like Zank was some kind of god. Her endurance was wavering. Inari could hardly maintain a steady pull on the airs currents, let alone even _consider_ using Wind Rider to attack. But she didn't want Bulat to die…No, she didn't want to _see_ any more death, other than the sick monster before her. Zank wasn't human—he had lost that bit of his soul, executing thousands upon thousands of prisoners, cracking under their pleading.

"How…How are you doing this?"

Zank closed the gap between him and Bulat, cooed, and caressed the man's oiled hair endearingly. "I'm letting him see the person he holds most dear. Spectator—it peers into your soul and shows your eyes whoever you wish to see most…No one can hurt the one they love."

Inari would beg to differ. She knew from experience that that was simply not true. "Is that all it can do?"

"Is that all?" Zank snapped his head up. " _Is that all?_ Look at your friend! The mountain of Night Raid, bowed at my feet!"

 _Buy more time, buy more time._ "Oh, him?" She laughed, broke into a cough, and spit a glob of iron-tainted phlegm. "Please. He looks tough, but—I'm not impressed." Pathetic, how much pain she was in. Electricity streaked through her vision. She wanted to scream, she wanted it to stop. No one could save them, why was she even trying?

"And I suppose you're any better?" Zank stepped away from Bulat and inched towards her. He was insane, with no appreciation for life, even his. It was perhaps her one advantage.

She took a deep breath, bit her tongue, and painfully sat up. Stifling a scream, her chest on fire, Inari clutched her left arm and rolled her thumb over the long, dagger-like needle sheathed in her arm-guard. "You can't stop me," she said through broken breath, "with illusions of love."

"Then I'll stop you by other means," Zank laughed wryly. "Did I not say? Spectator is spectacular! It is all-seeing, little girl. The future, your intentions—it predicts your every move. I'm always one step ahead."

That explained how he disarmed her and Tatsumi so easily. Wiggling the needle from it's pocket, Inari continued stroking the monster's ego. "That _is_ impressive." And it really was. Inari used Wind Rider to follow the movements of an enemy's muscles, but she relied on her own skill to accurately translate what each twitch meant. How do you beat someone who's always one step ahead? She would love to fight him with her full strength, focusing all her attention on depicting his physical motions, but she could feel the darkness edging her mind.

Zank cocked his head. Inari was too far gone to assess his facial features. "You're not afraid? You should be begging for your life." His voice trembled. "I want to hear your screams."

Her breath hitched involuntarily. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"So calm…Tell me, do you hear the screaming too?" Zank turned around, walking back to Bulat. His boots clanked against the tiles. Practically _feeling_ the hourglass was at it's last grains, Inari sunk her teeth into her lips and forced herself to her feet. "How do you deal with it?" Zank flicked his wrist, brandishing his blades. She started forward. "All I want to do is rip my ears off my head—" his voice trembled, shrill with unadorned agony and insanity. Inari burst forward. "And kill more and hear more and make it stop!"

Rearing his bladed arm, Zank slashed down at Bulat's neck, a strike to kill. Inari threw her needle. It spiraled through the air, imbedding itself into Zank's wrist, breaking through to the other side. Zank screamed, faltered. Inari barreled into Bulat, shoving him to the side. Spitting, Zank rose his other hand. Out of breath, out of time, the only thing she had the strength to do was cross her arms in a pathetic shield. Wind Rider could handle a blade. She closed her eyes, bracing herself.

 _Clang_. The air sang with the ring of metal-meeting-metal. But Inari felt no impact. Tentatively using the last of her energy, Inari reached out into the air.

A shadow stood before her and death, catching Zank's short blade with a weapon of slender steel.

"I will kill you now," Akame stated darkly, a final song before darkness engulfed Inari's mind.

* * *

 **End of Arc Two**

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Hey! I hope you guys enjoyed! I'm separating the story into Arcs now, just to keep it more organized. The next chapter will be a mini-prologue to Arc three, from Esdeath's perspective. From this point on, I'll be incorporation multiple PoVs, just because the main cast is split and it's important to know what's happening on the Jaeger's side of the story. I might add a short summary of everything that's happened so far in with the next chapter. The next Arc will involve more interactions with the Night Raid members Inari has yet to really talk to, including Lubbock, Leone, and Tatsumi, as well as appearances from Honest and the Emperor, and introductions of Esdeath and her team. It will probably end after the fight on the cruise ship Ryuusen.

In the anime, I felt that they were so rushed to kill off the characters, that they were forced to make them all very one-dimensional so the audience could get a clear understanding of their personalities before it's bye-bye. I'm taking the time to flesh everyone out more, and I wish I could do it forever, but the plot has to move forward. I might add in chapters from other Night Raid member perspectives. Let me know what you guys think, and who you want to see more of.

Also, remember when Seiger punched the bee-hive? Hehe...That's going to end up saving a character's life...Or, well, delaying it.

Let me know what you think so far! ^.^


	20. Kill My Dark Little Heart

**ARC THREE: Numbers Do Not Win You a War**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty/Prologue**

 **Kill My Dark Little Heart**

* * *

Beauty. Strength. Power.

But it was nice to relax, too.

Esdeeth sighed in content, sliding against the pool's floor until her whole body was submerged. Riling the water, small cubes of ice swam over her skin, comforting in their frozen touch. She exhaled slowly, savoring the bubbles of air tickling her nose as they rushed to the surface.

Cold. Blood. Power.

Standing, Esdeeth's head broke the water. Droplets cascaded down her cheeks, her breasts, her hips, alive against her skin. Her hair dragged down into the pool, pulling her head back towards the ceiling. She opened her eyes. Brilliant shafts of light streamed from the windows, painted colors of pastel pinks, blues, and champagnes from the stained glass. Marble sirens lounged atop column heads, myths of elegant beauties with murderous voices. Esdeeth rather liked Sirens, and vaguely wondered of their origins. Her mind drifted to the bubbles floating lazily in the air, the haze of white fog that set the bathing room in subtle accents of lavender and mint, and the marble tiles that glistened under the opalescent sun.

She held out her arms. A servant girl scurried forward, timid and hasty to impress, and wrapped Esdeeth's porcelain body in a towel worthy of her skin. Coddled in the fluffy covering, she stepped out of the pool and approached the door to her room. The waters were red in her wake.

"A dress has been laid out for you, my lady," the servant girl bowed her mousy little head. Indeed, a cut of striking blue fabric awaited on her bed. The mattress beckoned her, nearly whispering thoughts of sinking into its soft embrace and enjoying sweet, sweet dreams. The sheer canopy rippled in a breeze from an open window.

"No," Esdeeth said dismissively. She glanced at the girl, a cat eyeing a furtive piece of prey, and quickly looked away. "My uniform will do. Did you wash it?"

"It is almost finished, my lady."

"Hm." Dropping her towel, Esdeeth sauntered to the silver-coated vanity standing grand against the wall. Her feet slapped against black tile, trailing water. Sitting before the mirror, Esdeeth studied her reflection: mysterious blue eyes that promised secrets and pain, perpetually coy lips, skin as fair as the Northerner's snow—before she painted it scarlet with their blood—all crowned by a head of luscious lavender and sitting atop a shape of pure perfection. Yes, _perfection—_ what a lovely word on the tongue, one that tickled the mind's fancy and permanently draped her in a robe of confidence.

Dominance. Perfection. Power.

Esdeath looked in the mirror and saw a goddess. A survivor. Eyes that had witnessed terror, and were eager for more. Lips that had smiled at someone else's screams. A crimson marking nestled between her breasts, proof of the power she wielded.

She...was a monster. And it didn't bother her. But it should, she thought. It wasn't that she killed, but that she did so so effortlessly, so dismissively...so eagerly; Esdeath wanted to be perfect, but clearly, there was something wrong with her.

"What is the most important thing in the world?" Esdeath asked the servant, meeting the girl's eyes through their reflections.

"My lady," the servant looked confused, clearly afraid of giving the wrong answer. How irritating. The girl was so...weak.

"To you," Esdeath clarified. "The most important thing."

The girl swallowed, wringing her fingers. "Why, love, I would think."

Esdeath's gaze returned to her own reflection. She would have said "strength". It was beyond Esdeath how love could be considered anything more than an artistic invention. Her entire life, she had encountered the word-in literature, conversations, lessons-but never once had she been given any proof of its existence. She had never _felt_ "love," certainly had never understood it, and yet, for so many, the word was like nutrients itself. People clung to the concept like it held all the power in the world. Hundreds of her soldiers credited their survival on the battlefield to their precious ones at home. But that was impossible. It was strength that won you a war.

And Esdeath loved war.

Esdeath was a monster, and it bothered her that that didn't bother her.

* * *

A/N: Review if you enjoyed Esdeath's little intro! ^.^ I'll be changing her character a bit, so she doesn't make me want to rip my hair out. Hopefully I'll succeed in making her an actual person.


	21. Kill Those Mother-Fcking Bees

**Chapter Twenty-One**

 **Kill Those Mother-F*cking Bees**

* * *

Her first thought was pain. Her second thought was the realization that it was the first time she didn't wake and immediately long for home.

Inari rolled her head to the side, shrinking away from the light blaring from the window. Crinkling her nose, she listened to the covers rustle as she stretched her legs, pointing her toes like a cat unfurling. Coarse bandages wrapped her chest beneath a cotton night gown, constricting her breaths and bothering her skin. Memories arrived like a slow sun dawning; Zank, Bulat crashing into her, Akame saving them all. Laying a hand on her bruised ribcage, Inari hoped it wasn't Seiger who bandaged her up. She also hoped it was.

Hesitantly testing her limits, Inari sat up. Numb stabs of pain knocked on her bones from the inside, like pressure on a bruise, a sensation that felt like it should hurt more, like a wall of cotton muffled the pain. Uncomfortable, but bearable. She slipped off the bed—the floor was cold against her bare feet—and held out her hand. Jock gruffed, and soon she felt the delighting familiar moisture of his nose on her palm. Deciding to give herself and Wind Rider a break, she took Jock's leash and let the lion guide her from the room.

She opened the door, and heard screams.

After a flicker of confusion followed by irritation, the spark of adrenalin settled in, urging Inari down the halls. The logic in her head told her to scout the base, activate Wind Rider and see what she was racing towards, but she was still recovering. She would only have a limited use of the gauntlets before they would both need to re-charge again, and Inari needed to save every ounce of energy she had. Settling on only her immediate surroundings in preparation for an ambush, Inari dashed towards the screeches and intermittent banging coming from downstairs.

Everyones' screams overlapped, merging into one massive jumble of vowels and shrill cries. Jock suddenly yanked on his leash, pulling Inari backwards. She fell on her butt and less that an instant after, the floor she had been running towards exploded in a flash of light. Throwing her arms up, she shielded her face from the cannonade of wooden debris. Splinters smattered into her palms, ripped past her elbows, leaving torn skin and trails of stinging cold. In a breath she was up again, bounding towards the stairs, cursing every Night Raid member over and over again.

She followed the ruckus to the living room. It was utter pandemonium. Screaming, shattering glass, thumping furniture, and a tide of _buzzing_ that seemed to devour the air. Standing just outside the doorway, Inari abandoned her previous decision, alarm and curiosity driving her to activate Wind Rider.

 _For the gods' sake._

Bees. Gods damned bees swarmed the room to high heaven.

"LUBBOCK!" Mine shrieked, her small feet teetering on a chair ledge. The wind around her hands covered a weapon nearly half the girl's size—Inari had only ever seen its like once, strapped to several guards' thighs at the Emperor's palace. A gun. Only, Mine's was massive, and being brandished like the most powerful of fetishes, aimlessly shooting streaks of light that singed the air and anything, bees included, in its path. Dangerous, was what it was. Mine nearly blasted Inari into oblivion upstairs!

"Don't yell at _me_!" Lubbock slashed his right hand in the air, felling several bees with the whip-like strings of his Imperial Arms. Furniture hung from the ceiling, tables and chairs strung with the thin tentacles, surrounding the man in a makeshift, floating barrier. "It's Seiger's fault!"

Inari took everything in at once. Akame and Najenda, backs to a wall, fearlessly slashing their swords; Sheele running in circles around the room, her giant sheers held before her, snapping open and closed; Tatsumi batting at the bees with a sword in one hand and a spatula in the other. Leone, in full lion-mode, barred her canines and swiped the horde with her enlarged, deathly paws. Bulat had nothing to fear in his full armor, the only one adequately protected. Seiger stood on a couch, a sheet covering him head-to-toe but for his left arm, which swung a pillow wildly. Coffee tables were overturned, her collection of papers either littered the floor or zoomed through the air, stuck to a bee's stinger. Feathers from the pillows fell in a furious rain, and bees, bees _everywhere,_ stuck to the walls or swarming or dead on the floor. _How the hell had it gotten this bad?_

"Akame! Watch where you swing that thing!" Tatsumi shouted.

Akame whisked her Imperial Arms blade through the bodies of—Inari counted seven bees. "Stay out of my way."

Inari ducked moments before a glass bottle soared over her head, smacking the wall behind her and exploding in a cascade of shards.

"Oh, shit, sorry Inari!" Leone threw over her shoulder before chucking another empty bottle.

"INARI!" Najenda shouted in surprise. Her voice bellowed over the chaos, "push them outside!"

 _Right._ She rubbed her hands together. Bulat rushed for the sliding door, shoving it open to the courtyard beyond. Mustering her strength, Inari spread her arms wide and rapidly dipped them low, as if scooping up the air. Thrusting her hands forward, a burst of wind coursed through the room, strong enough to capture the bees in a tide of currents but humble enough for everyone to remain on their feet. Her "vision" depleted to a useless whirl of black dots and rushing ripples. Blind, she swirled her hands to ensure no crack or crevice in the room or its adjacent corridors was left untouched by Wind Rider's fingers before whisking out the door in a wave of bees, feathers, glass shards, debris and— _papers._

At the sound of Bulat slamming the door shut, Inari sank to her knees. Poundings on the glass window were indication enough that the surviving bees were unsatisfied by the turn of events. Trickles of dust, wood, and ceramic tile rained from the ceiling in intermittent spurts, the destruction of Mine's firearm smacking the floor in light patters and no doubt leaving behind yawning gaps. Wooden squeaks groaned from the direction of Lubbock's fort as everyone stood still, startled by the sudden absence of chaos.

"Oh, my, god," Mine breathed, before turning on Lubbock. "What the hell is wrong with you!? You're supposed to keep watch! _This_ is _not_ keeping watch!"

"I'm _sorry,"_ Lubbock scathed. "I was a bit busy _running_ from them myself, if you didn't see me throwing myself against the door."

"Bulat shouldn't have let you in," Mine snapped. Focusing on her breathing, Inari leaned her head against the doorframe.

"They're still outside," Akame muttered.

"It's not his fault," Seiger's boots slammed on the floor—Inari supposed he jumped off the couch. "They must have tracked me. I didn't think these were the vengeful type, but I guess I was wrong," he said sheepishly.

"Inari, are you alright?" Sheele's voice was soft in her ear. The gentle touch of the woman's hand on her shoulder re-ignited her senses. Inari thought of saying something sardonic, but she was too tired, honestly, and just wanted to sit.

"Lie her on the couch," Seiger instructed, before his footsteps hit the floor at a run, bounding past her and down the corridor. "I'll get the salve!"

Strong arms helped Inari up—time was an odd thing and suddenly cushions were beneath her. She covered her face in her hands and sighed despairingly.

Leone whistled. "Look at them go!" The furious taps on the window showed no sign of easing up. If she listened closely, Inari could hear their buzzing and more poundings against the outer walls and roof. No doubt, the bees had them surrounded.

"Looks like our missions are canceled tonight," Najenda said wryly. "No one leaves the base until we're sure the bees are gone," she ordered.

"But what about the drug smugglers in the Red District?" Leone argued.

"You and Tatsumi can go after them at their meeting next week," Najenda said calmly. "And Mine, Sheele, Shagway Legump will have to wait as well." _Shagway Legump—_ Inari recognized that name. He was a tax collector for the Empire. Why was he being targeted by Night Raid? "I just hope they'll let up before our food supply lets up," Najenda murmured. "Inari, you're free of chores for the next few days. We'll need you recovered in case we end up having to open the door to a swarm."

 _You mean I wasn't excused before?_ She wanted to ask, still acutely aware of the dull ache in her chest, but something much more pressing was on her mind. She bit her lip, trying not to groan and lose any bit of decorum she had left. She recognized the couch under her—its velvet fabric, the bulge in the third cushion—as the one she had set up her workstation at. There should be papers crinkling beneath her, not soft plush.

"Inari, are you alright?" Bulat asked.

"The papers," she forced through her fingers. She didn't need Wind Rider to know where they were: outside, with the bees. A wind heavy enough to sway a horde of insects was bound to bring any loose paper with it.

"Oh…" Sheele whispered.

"I'm sure they're fine," Leone waved her hand, though she sounded uncertain. The buzzing dominating in the followed silence.

Seiger's storming down the staircase carried into the room, and soon a putrid smell licked Inari's nose. "I got it! Here, who's got it worse? Tatsumi, let me see you."

"Why do you automatically assume its me?" The boy grumbled.

"There's no way I'm going near that stuff," Mine's voice was nasally—Inari could practically see her holding her nose.

"There is," Najenda said, "and you will. I won't have my assassins running about with big welts on their skin—dying from laughter isn't a permissible end, in my book. Akame, you go first, then take stock on our food. Lubbock, what do you know about these bees?"

"Um, they're wasps, actually," Lubbock answered.

"Oh my god," Mine groaned, exasperated.

"But, uh, other than that," Lubbock thought, "They're a Danger Beast species-I've read about these ones before. They infest a singular tree as their main hive, and then build other, smaller hives around the area. Seiger's right. The residue left on him must have signaled the rest of the horde. Heh—sorry guys, I didn't recognize them when Seiger and I were out yesterday. They're stubborn, too, so it's not likely they'll leave any time soon. I'm guessing we've got a week, maybe ten days."

"Well, we can alwa—" Tatsumi started, but was quickly interrupted.

"Hear that, Akame?" Najenda asked. "That means _smaller_ portions for all of us."

"If we run out of food, we can just sacrifice Lubbock," Leone suggested.

"Why don't we ju—" Tatsumi tried.

"What!" The boy exclaimed. "Why is everyone—I told you, this is Seiger's fault!"

"You just said you should have recognized them," Mine countered.

"I—" Lubbock stuttered.

"Guys!" Tatsumi shouted, demanding everyone's' attention. "If we run out of food, we can send Bulat out. The bees can't pierce through Incursio, right?"

"Well, I guess that's an option too," Leone considered, not sounding as excited as she was about her own idea.

"I'll be protected," Bulat thought, "but my posters are plastered all around the Capital. I look different now, it's true, but someone might still recognize me." So _that_ was why Bulat always seemed to stay at the base during the day, Inari thought through her exhaustion.

"If food becomes a problem," Najenda said, "then we'll have no other choice. But let's try to hold out first. Worst _comes_ to worse, we can settle for several days of unseasoned fish and Danger Beast protein. I'm not as concerned about bread and greens."

"Inari still can't keep down any meat," Seiger piped in.

Inari waved her hand numbly. "I'm still here." _You don't have to speak for me._ Plus, she was still mortified about her sudden "condition," or whatever it was supposed to be called. Improper, was what it was—disgusting, how the smallest bite of meat brought thoughts of maggots and death to her mind. But she wasn't about to let her pathetic weakness become everyone else's problem. "And I can deal with it."

"Alright then," Najenda clapped her hands, a powerful sound that signaled the end to the discussion. "Mine, go see if we have plaster in any of the supply closets to fix the holes you blasted into my ceiling."

"I'll go with her!" Lubbock said, a bit too eagerly, considering Mine had been all for Leone's plan to sacrifice him to the bees not five minutes earlier. Then again, in Inari's few weeks of living with the girl, Mine had never done _more_ than throw nasty comments. She threatened everyone, yes, but not once has she actually acted on it. Joking about pain and death just seemed to be apart of Night Raid's social dynamic.

"Fine," Najenda waved him off. "Seiger, when you're finished up with Sheele, cover Tatsumi next so he can help Akame in the kitchen. Bulat, just…try not to go crazy being stuck inside. You have permission to clear out a room for sparring practice, but don't break any of my walls." Inari listened as Bulat's heavy footsteps clomped out the room. "Sheele, don't open an—Sheele, are you listening?" Inari heard Najenda snap her fingers several times. " _Don't open any doors or windows._ Got it?"

"Don't open any doors or windows," Sheele affirmed.

"Good," Najenda said softly.. "Seiger, make sure none of us die in the next few days," she sighed, "and see if you can find a way to keep us all smelling half-way decent. We won't be able to bathe in the springs for a while, and I, for one, could live without experiencing Leone's body odor again."

"Yours 'aint no cotton candy either," Leone laughed. "So what's my job?"

"Go bother Bulat," Najenda said disinterestedly.

"Aye-aye," Leone said wryly, before her footsteps pattered off.

"Inari, just, rest up, alright?" Najenda told her.

"Fine," she yawned, absolutely alright with the order. Inari dropped her hand to dangle off the edge of the couch and sway against Jock's fur. Letting her mind wander off, she slowly succumbed to exhaustion, and it was like she had never come downstairs at all.


	22. Kill the Late-night Hunger

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

 **Kill the Late-night Hunger**

* * *

She didn't know how long she slept, but Inari could tell it was well into the night. A muffled silence fogged the room and darkness hung heavy in the air. No candles or blips of light to lessen the encasing blackness. The only sounds were Jock's perpetual snores, adorable rumbles and sighs that squeezed her hear, and the persistent _buzzing_ clouding the windows and walls and roof. Inari cringed at the violent taps against the windowpanes as bees bumped their small bodies against the glass. It was a gruesome noise, inescapable in that the horde had the building completely surrounded. Without access to the open air, neither Inari nor Lubbock could guard the base, leaving them blind in the face on an attack. And, apparently, attacks _were_ an occurrence. Not even Night Raid, the harbingers of fear in the moon, were safe at night.

The only comfort was that no one would be stupid enough to attack them with a wall of bees in the way.

Bees. They were incredibly underrated creatures, Inari realized. What other beast could confine _Night Raid_ inside? Inari wondered if an Imperial Arms existed with the ability to control the vermin. The concept sounded vaguely familiar, but with the weapons as lost and scattered as they are, she would probably never know.

 _Well. I should figure out what time it is,_ Inari decided. Back at home, she had always kept a clock by her bedside, using Wind Rider to make out it's hands. It was irritating, waking in the middle of the night and being ignorant of how much longer it would be until the sun rose. Slowly, she pushed off her elbows, lifting off the velvety cushions and feeling a refreshed chill where perspiration had glued the fabrics to her skin. She felt encased in glue, sticky and uncomfortable, and groaned when she remembered the bathing springs were beyond a hazard of bees.

Cursing Lubbock, because, well, why not, Inari stood, teetered on the balls of her feet, regained her balance, and lightly tapped Jock. Without Wind Rider or her eyes to guide her, the lion was reduced to a heavy cloud of warmth hovering by her side. He dropped the leash in her outstretched hand and walked her through the room. Evidently, someone had been tasked with cleaning up the debri, though her bare feet still sifted over gravel-like crumbles of powder. Apparently, whoever fixed the room returned the furniture to their exact placements, and Inari, used to the format, had an easier time maneuvering through. She wondered if it was done for her, or if Najenda just preferred consistency.

She found a clock on a shelf above the fireplace, and with Wind Rider, determined it 3:40. Not wanting to throw off her sleep schedule any _more,_ Inari debating trying to fall back into her dreamless revelry, but then her stomach groaned. They would be tight on food for the next however long, but she hadn't eaten in at least a day. She should be aloud to take from their precious rations.

Jock knew where to go—he was hungry, too. Together, they pattered to the kitchen.

Inari walked through the doorway. The slick ring of metal-on-metal—an unsheathing blade—so close to her face brought her squaring to a halt. Startled, Inari stood stock still.

"What are you doing here?" Akame's voice drifted from somewhere to Inari's right.

"Do you—do you have a _knife_ pointed at me?"

"Yes." Akame's voice was low and bored. A short shuffling sound came from the woman's skirts as—Inari assumed—Akame stepped back.

"Do you mind if I ask _why?"_ Inari tried to hide her surprise.

"I'm guarding the food," Akame's voice slithered away as her shoes clapped further into the kitchen. "I thought you were Leone."

Inari still didn't move. Alright, it was fair to assume someone would sneak into the kitchen in the dead of night, but Akame was the most shameless eater of them all. Rivaled only by _maybe_ Bulat, the woman practically swallowed her plates whole. Inari wouldn't be so quick to trust her in protecting the food.

The wail of a stool sliding against the floor was finally enough to convince Inari she could breath. Still, she was unable to move until she activated Wind Rider to ensure no pointed blades were in the premises. Akame was curled on a three-legged bar stool, her arms folded on the island counter and chin nestled on top. Her head faced a loaf of bread.

"Are you just…staring at the food?" _In the dark?_ Inari took a hesitant step forward.

"Yes."

"Were you doing that before I came in here?"

The woman flicked her eyes from the bread to Inari's face, a subtle movement that would have melted into the darkness had Wind Rider not picked it up. Akame nodded, reminding Inari of an innocent cat. Felines typically stood within the night, enveloping themselves in the blackness so that every crease in their fur became a shadow. They were royal statues, every line sculptured and still unless a movement was worthy of their time. Akame was _so much_ like a cat that perhaps, in another life, she was one.

"Is it because you're hungry?" Inari swallowed a wince. Of course Akame was hungry. The woman was a bottomless pit. And had that question sounded dehumanizing? Seriously, it was difficult to treat Akame like a person. Inari had to remind herself of that evening when Akame had tried to comfort her, patting her head and being so genuinely awkward. _Just talk to her like a normal human being._ Except that, Akame wasn't normal. None of Night Raid was.

"I'm fine," Akame's eyes returned to the plate of bread.

Realizing she was slightly afraid to ask for food, Inari slid into the chair on the other side of the island. Jock growled, hoisting himself up on his hind legs and pawing the countertop. Inari completely forgot how much of a strain Jock's diet would put on their supply. Before she could irritably bat her reservations away and ask for something to eat, Akame abruptly slid back her stool, unsheathed her sword from its holster on her back, and swung the blade at string hanging a lump of meat from the ceiling. The meat fell into her hands—Akame returned her Imperial Arms and whisked a knife from a stand on the counter in calculated strides. One swipe against the meat; tossing the large bone to Jock, Akame flicked a thin slice through the air. It landed on the counter inches away from Inari's hands. Akame returned to her seat.

"Thank you," Inari cleared her throat.

"It's dried," Akame said dismissively. "You can eat it."

 _Oh—_ Inari ripped off a small piece and took a hesitant nibble. The meat neither melted nor squished in her mouth. Grateful, Inari popped the piece in her mouth. It chewed like gum. The smacking of Jock's lips was proof enough that he was satisfied. Inari hadn't even realized the meat hanging from the ceiling—there had to be at least a bear's worth of food, maybe even more.

"I went hunting in the morning," Akame said simply, no doubt following Inari's inclined head. It was lucky, then, that Akame had returned before the bees attacked.

Nothing in particular came to Inari's mind, so she decided to take another bite and focus on keeping her mouth closed. The dried meat was chewy and all her lips wanted was to unhinge and smack the food around. But she wouldn't do that. That was disgusting.

Several minutes passed and Akame seemed fine with the lull. Unlike with Bulat, there was something harrowing about sitting in silence next to this woman, though, and Inari fished for a new conversation.

"I never said thank you," Inari said after swallowing her food. "Zank would have killed me, but—"

"There is nothing to thank," Akame interrupted drily.

"But you saved my life."

"You're my comrade. I didn't have to think about it."

There it was again, Akame excusing her kindness for camaraderie. Inari was so far from considering any of Night Raid as "teammates" that the sentiment was absolutely bizarre. Shaking her head, Inari wouldn't question it further. Akame was weird.

"What happened with Zank after I blacked out?"

"I killed him," Akame answered simply.

"I mean, obviously," Inari shifted in her seat. "What happened?"

"I stabbed him," Akame's voice pinched, as if confused what it was Inari didn't understand.

"How?" Inari laughed in bewilderment. She wasn't a fan of reducing such a violent act to nothing more than a joke, but Zank was wretched and Inari was honestly relieved that he was gone.

"With my sword."

Sighing, Inari decided it was a lost cause. She wanted to ask how Akame survived Zank's "Spectacular Spectator," but the woman was either uninterested in expounding or unwilling. Inari took another tear at her food and suddenly a wooden groan came from the floors of another room. Akame's eyes flicked to the door and her hand slowly reached for the block of knives. Some camaraderie, preparing to stab a teammate over a pick of food.

They waited in silence, Akame slinking out of her seat and towards the doorway, while footsteps creaked closer. Inari, still recovering, expanded Wind rider's range to hover just beyond the entryway. It was a wait, as whoever it was was clearly taking their time to make as little noise as possible. A whisk of a knife, a strangled yelp; one of the boys stood in the doorway, his arms thrown up, body covered in loose cotton. Inari frowned, thinking it was Lubbock, but without the goggles on his head and the idiosyncratic outfit that always demanded an onlooker's attention, he seemed incredibly…normal.

"What the hell is your problem!" It certainly didn't _sound_ like Lubbock's voice, but Tatsumi would never say something like that.

"I'm protecting the food," Akame muttered.

The boy sputtered. "From what, _bears?_ You nearly skewered me whole!"

"At least then we would have more food," Akame said with the straightest of faces. The jest—Inari hoped it was a jest—was unexpected.

"Wait, who's there?" Inari dropped her head into hand.

"Lubbock," the boy answered calmly, before diving back into his hysterics. "Wait, are you saying you would _eat_ me? And Inari, you just _let her almost stab me?"_

"She did the same to me," Inari shrugged. "Think of it as an initiation. If you come into the kitchen, you need to know what to expect."

"Gods above," Lubbock groaned. "I just want a snack."

"No. We're saving it all," Akame said firmly.

"You expect me to believe that you're just not eating it all yourself?" Lubbock crossed his arms. He was strong in the face of the terrifying woman; Inari would give him credit for that. "Come on Akame. Please?"

She didn't even waste a beat. "No."

"Fine!" Lubbock threw his hands up. "At least let me get a glass of water. You can't refuse me that—Seiger said I had to keep my fluids high or whatever, and we're connected to a tap." Akame had no qualms, and she sidestepped to allow him entrance. " _Thank you,"_ he bit.

"Why do you sound weird?" Inari turned so he could see her face from the moonlight.

"I see someone isn't good at sugarcoating things," Lubbock scratched his nose as he walked to the sink. "I had a weird reaction to the wasps," he explained over the dull clinking of glassware. He chose a cup and opened the faucet. The sound of water rushing forth and splattering into the sink only lasted a moment before his cup was full. "It was a lot worse before, but Seiger gave me something and _damn_ is it working."

Soon all three sat around the counter, Lubbock's presence bringing a light energy to the dark kitchen. He laughed and pushed the conversation along, his personality easy and forgiving. Unlike Leone, he wasn't a wound string, and Inari felt safe insulting him. She found herself surprised at how much she enjoyed his company.

"So, Lubbock," she leaned forward, elbows pressed against the counter, "I hear you're a genius."

The boy shrugged, sending his scrappy hair to slip behind his shoulders. "Yea," he said shamelessly.

"Really? For some reason, I though you would deny it," Inari frowned.

"I didn't realize I come across as humble," Lubbock grinned.

"You don't," Akame murmured.

"I just meant that, well, it seems like a dangerous lie," Inari cocked a brow daringly.

"You think I'm dumb?" Lubbock sounded a mix between hurt and amused.

"I said _seem,_ " Inari clarified. "But you did think a barricade of chairs would protect against a horde of bees."

" _Wasps,"_ Lubbock clarified. "And I may be many things—a sleazebag, a killer, a womanizer—"

"Or two out of the three," Akame muttered.

"But I am not, _not,_ a liar. Usually." Lubbock paused, scratched his nose. "No, I take that back. What I am, is _not_ stupid. Got it?"

"That entire diatribe just seems quite the contrary," Inari shrugged, "but whatever you say. If you're such a genius, why are you here? There are better paying careers, if you can even call this that." She expected Lubbock to spout some heroic nonsense, that money is nothing if its dirty, that he would rather die than succeed at the hands of the Empire, but the boy just flicked his glass lazily, serenading them with a wind of clinks.

"I don't care about money," he answered honestly. "I grew up rich, and really really bored. There was nothing to do but study and learn and gods was it easy." For the first time, his eyes weren't wandering or pinned to another gaze. Lubbock stared at his glass, and Inari imagined an array of different expressions: eyes that clung to the cup to keep from drowning, or that dissecting it, or that saw something beyond, a memory or a different truth. "People who struggle dream of a peaceful life, and people who have everything want excitement. It's as simple as that, for me at least."

"Hm," Inari hummed. She, too, lived a life of luxury, but she had her own mountains that buried any boredom. Lubbock, it seemed, had nothing but flatland and nowhere to go. "So how did assassination come into the equation?"

"It's the most exciting thing I could think of," Lubbock murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't sound very convincing, but rather, that his mind was elsewhere.

"What about you, Akame?" Inari felt greedy. She wanted to know these people more, their motives for joining Night Raid, their resolve, their…stories.

"What about me?"

"How did you join Night Raid?" Inari tilted her head.

"Najenda convinced me," Akame said bluntly. "So I joined."

"Oh, ok," Inari wanted to press, but decided it might be best not to. The atmosphere was dangerously close to sinking into a depression, and she really wasn't interested in any more of that. "So, um, Lubbock," she cleared her throat, "the reason I asked is that I had a few questions a genius might be able to answer."

"Hm?" Lubbock asked absently.

"Yes," Inari said firmly, hoping to wake him from whatever thought was occupying his mind. "Seiger and I found a…well, I guess you could call it a manual for Wind Ryder." Lubbock perked up, humming in interest. "It belonged to my grandfather—"

"What did, the manual or Wind Rider?" Lubbock asked.

"Both," Inari clarified. But she waved her hand to move on. "It's not important. I'll just skip to the relevant part—in the manual, my grandfather detailed several techniques that I would like to try. There was something he described as 'sound manipulation.' Apparently, air has something to do with sound?" Inari shrugged. "I don't know science, but Seiger said that you might."

"Oh," Lubbock sat back. "Yea, I can help with that. It's pretty simply. Do you just—want to know the basics of sound mechanics?" He grinned questioningly through the darkness, eyebrows raised. Inari nodded. He shrugged. "Alright. Well, air isn't actually 'nothing'. You can't feel or see them, but millions of tiny particles make it up. Imagine just a lot of dots—a _lot_ of dots—just sort of floating around. When something makes a 'sound', its really only making a vibration. So, you speak, disrupting the air molecules your in contact with. Those air molecules are touching other air molecules—the vibrations pass through, traveling by pushing the air molecules together and then expanding outward, kind of like a wave. Eventually, the vibrations reach your ears, which are fashioned with the tools to convert the movements into what your brain interprets as sound. Do you get it?"

Inari squinted, trying to picture it. His words formed an image of an unnatural wave dancing through open space. But then she thought about Wind Rider, how, when she used it, she herself "traveled" through the air. She uses the vibrations to draw pictures of where things were. Perhaps I wasn't so far-fetched after all. "I think I understand," she said thoughtfully. Transferring that knowledge into sound manipulation might be relatively simple. But, it meant that controlling noise would disrupt the natural air currents. It produced the same issue as using Wind Rider to create physical alterations in the wind. Inari would be left blind. What she _really_ needed was to access the bond with the gauntlets that her Grandfather eventually mastered, so she could use all facets without obstructing one another. Then again, that power had killed him.

Sighing, Inari dropped her head in her hands. "Sometimes, I wish I could see." The others were silent as she rubbed her useless, rubbish eyes. It just caused too many problems, and, also…well, Inari _knew_ what she was missing.

"Well…" Lubbock chewed his bottom lip, sounding hesitant but eager.

"No," Akame demanded.

"What?" Inari propped her head up.

"Why not? It's _for_ us," Lubbock insisted.

"It could kill her," Akame stated.

 _What?_

"It didn't kill Tatsumi," Lubbock persisted.

"Tatsumi didn't have an Imperial Arms," Akame's voice was sharp, clearly meant to signal the end of the debate.

"Um, hello?" Inari stuck her arm over the counter and snapped her fingers. "What are you talking about?"

"Spectator," Lubbock explained. He glanced at Akame, but she crossed her arms and sat back. Taking the docility as permission, Lubbock continued. "Zank's Imperal Arms—we brought it back with us. Tatsumi tried it on yesterday, but it rejected him. I was just thinking, Spectator's abilities revolve around sight…If you were to try it—"

"Maybe I would be able to see again," Inari straightened. "But what would that mean? If I'm able to use it—is it possible?" _Two_ Imperial arms?

"It's not unheard of," Akame murmured. "A person with an affinity for one already is more likely to have one for another than someone who doesn't. Still," Akame slapped her palm across the countertop, striking a fierce _clap_ that startled Jock from his reverie. "One Imperial Arms is taxing enough. Two will kill you."

"Two _might_ kill you," Lubbock amended. "Will probably kill you," he nudged his head sideways, "but not certainly."

"What if I take Wind Rider off?" Inari thought. She was unlikely to trade Wind Rider for Spectator regardless, but it never hurt to _try._ Well, unless it _did_ hurt. Then—unless curiosity became too enticing—she would leave Zank's third eye alone.

"Yea, I don't see why not," Lubbock slid the glass from hand-to-hand, scratching it along the stone counter. "Tatsumi was fine, and he's a quarter of the endurance as you."

"I won't help you get killed," Akame glowered menacingly. "Ask Najenda yourself."

"I'll ask her!" Lubbock perked up so quickly he nearly teetered off his seat. Settling himself, he scratched his nose and shrugged his shoulders. "I mean," he cleared his throat, "you know, whatever you need."

Sighing, Inari popped the last slice of meat in her mouth and pinched the skin above her nose. She would think about it. There was plenty of time until the next night, and Inari needed to stay awake until then if she wanted any chance to regulate her sleep schedule. If she tried using Spectator without wearing Wind Rider, there shouldn't be as big a risk. If it rejected her, then that would be that. "Alright…thank you."

* * *

A.N: Hey! Sorry it's been so long. Chapter updates will be less frequent, but i'm trying my best. Also, it might not have been clear: the bee incident (I love saying that) directly intersects when Sheele and Mine would have been caught by Seryu. In other words, Sheele's cannon death has been avoided. For now. Heheh.

Review if you enjoyed!


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